Years go by, will I still be waiting for somebody else to understand?
Years go by, if I'm stripped of my beauty, and the orange clouds raining in my head?
Years go by, will I choke on my tears 'til finally there is nothing left?
One more casualty, you know we're too easy easy easy...
Well I love the way we communicate, your eyes focus on my funny little shape
Let's hear what you think of me now, but baby don't look up - the sky is falling.
Your mother shows up in a nasty dress it's your turn now to stand where I stand
Everybody lookin' at you here take hold of my hand - yeah I can hear them.
But what if I'm a mermaid in these jeans of yours with her name still on it?
Hey but I don't care, 'cause sometimes, I said sometimes
I hear my voice, I hear my voice, I hear my voice
And it's been here, silent all these years
I've been here, silent all these years
This is one of the most hauntingly beautiful, tragic, profound songs I've ever heard. I suppose it's rather cliche to wax poetic about Tori Amos - she is a doyenne of the deep philosophical thoughts of most college coeds (usually those of us who were labeled as such from about 1992-1999 or so).
She wrote this song about remaining silent after her rape.
It hit me tonight that my mother's voice, in deference to my father's selfishness and personal desires, was silent for many years. She never seemed to stand up for what she wanted - she always seemed to mold her life around his desires, and around what she felt was best for my sister and I.
Now, with the divorce final, she doesn't have to be silent anymore. I hope she hears her voice anew, and for once, makes herself happy. I would love nothing more than to see her sever all ties, get rid of all of her baggage (literal and emotional), pack her little Westie into her car and drive to wherever her heart takes her.
I hope she hears her voice, though it has been silent for far too long.