So, all this ado just to say that they are singable
Born to Grumble
I was born to grumble
I mutter and I mumble
Languages I learned
With no intention to converse
Languages I learned
So that you won’t understand
I was born to grumble
I mutter and I mumble
In the Hundred Acre Wood
My favourite wasn’t Tigger or Pooh
It was Eeyore I admired
I was born to grumble
I was born to grumble
With my crooked back
And my intolerance
For neighbours and pedestrians sharing their smoke
And the builders making their holes in the street
On a Saturday morning
After I had finally fallen asleep
Oh, I was born to grumble
I mutter and I mumble
When the car drivers try to kiss my a.ss
When the cyclist in front won’t speed up yet
When elderly ladies cross the sreet
To the beat of the red light, while I wait for the green,
Guess what I do
I grumble
I swear under my breath first in Swedish then in Finnish then in Japanese
Oh, I was born to grumble
My Mother’s Atlas
i was born with my heart in my hand
it’s a rare but rarely lethal mutation,
the doctor said to my sobbing mum
while the snow fell and melted on the windowsill
and it grew
and i grew
and i flew up high
well, i flew for a year
and i fell for two
till i thought you can’t be further down
i was not born with a waterhead (is the term "waterhead" refering to hydrocephaly, as it does in German, or did the dictionary fool me?)
like the x-ray made the doc predict
but still i never could be
my mother’s atlas like she dreamt i’d be
for i had another defect
i met a boy who was born with scissors for hands
and i know it’s common in this city but my heart
glowed at his sight
and from then on i always had
snugly warm feet and a dead cold hand
as the puddle in which i stood
grew into a lake
and one day my boy went to Dresden without looking back
i’ve been wearing gloves ever since but though
i was bound to fall
deeper than you or her
i have also flown way up there
and the view almost made up for the fall
so i’ll hold my tongue now, only open my mouth
to thank my mum for knitting me another pair of gloves to wear
all through the year
well, i guess my epitaph’s gonna say
she was born with her heart in her hand
Cheers,
straycat.


