To where will you turn
Round robin, round robin
Is it the mother that delegates so?
That a blow left then he shall know
Are you not as such a leaf?
Or does mother not wish it so
That if she decides it east
Then that surely we may go
Is it not her force a guide?
As some may sought it as a push
A shove beyond allowed
But yet I guess it is in the eye
In the time when we could fly
Through space and time just as you
Did we not give to what mother wished?
A brisk here to smoothen the blow