Old mother Europe

I like sitting in Your arms tonight Sitting with eyes wide open to the real word I like drawing on Your fashionable rights Anyway I know it’s better then say: Old Mother Europe is so tired And I say: Old Mother Europe is quite tired Bye, bye Mother, I am flying so high You’ve grown too old just trying to get younger I like sitting in Your arms tonight But there’s so cold I can’t stand Your growing older Mother Old Mother Europe is so tired And I say: Old Mother Europe is quite tired And Your baby’s games and Your monster’s remains And the crowd in Your doorways Too delicious to make You happy too smart to be acquired Set You free from hate that encourages me when I’m running my own race Really, mum, old Mother Europe is so tired I like sitting in Your arms tonight Sitting with eyes wide open to the real word I like drawing on Your fashionable rights Anyway I know it’s better then say: Old Mother Europe is so tired And I say: Old Mother Europe is quite tired