I could say,

 

"Mama, Mama, Mama, come help me"

 

but you are so busy living out a Colorado fantasy

On the Rocky Mountain cliffsides you create offspring

that in turn are thrown off me as new wanna-be's

 

I could say,

 

"I thought you would be there for me like Thelma was there for Louise"

 

but I guess I am the statistic

that rises to the judge and says:

 

"Yes, my mama, mama, mama has left me"

 

to go where a new life, of dreams was waiting

Mama, Mama, Mama I guess you are what you seem

a lying, cheating, scheme

 

I could say,

 

"I am angry, but Mama, Mama, Mama, you have helped me"

 

I am now who you could ever never be

Mama, Mama, Mama I hope you are happy 

next to the Red Rocks and Indian Chiefs

and two kids who are barely the same age as me

 

I could say,

 

"Mama, Mama, Mama, why did you leave me"

 

but Mama, Mama, Mama I understand 

it was for your babies who weren't royalty

because you knew

I was the only Moses floating down your stream

to the kings

 

Mama, Mama, Mama, this poem is not about what you 

didn't want me to be, but about how the 

 

Rocky Mountains divided our family 

 

Mama, Mama, Mama

Just know I am who I wanted to be