When I speak with CoranSometimes she seems like an angry onenSaying things that I'd be scared to saynAnd she tells her [?] all the feelings that I seenIs a mirror reflecting mennWhen I speak with CoranShe stands up for herselfnShe says, Can you hear me?nAre you listening to me? I'm not done.nnWhen I say something hurtfulnShe always lets me knownThat it's my pain for me to shownnShe seems to burn with a thousand yearsnOf women's battle, anger, and tearsnAnd when I find her hardest to take(?)nRight there in the middle, she says,nStrange. You are the pain and anger. I respect you.nBut through it, I don't respect you,nBut I like younBut through it, I don't like you,nBut I love younnAnd I love you, too.nnAnd the scream of her love, I can't denynnWhen I see the little kids cling to the sidenAnd I'm silenced by the ages in her eyesnAnd melted by the sweetness in her smilenAnd the wisdom that she holds up I can't denynAnd the laughter that she knows I can't denynAnd the garbage pick she brings the kids at nightnAnd the melody she sings I can't denynAnd with all of these things, I can't denynOh, what can I do as she [?]nnAh, ahnOh, GodnOh, God