Disclaimer: This was written from the lyrics to "Born Slippy" by
Underworld. I don't own either 7th Heaven or the song. Lyrics follow the
story.
They were my last chance. My last babies, a chance to do everything right, with all I'd learned. My oldest was going to college, and he'd been valedictorian, so I must have done something right. So I was so happy for this last chance.
I love babies. Babes and babes and remembering nothing else. And they were so blonde, and so perfect-like little angels. I loved them. I remember loving them. But what happened? We were all a family, once, and they were the babies of all of us.
But then Matt went off to college. And he stayed and stayed. And I wanted him to stay, to guard his angel brothers, but something in me knew that he should leave. And then Simon got drunk. And Matt married Sarah. And all of a sudden he was in New York. He was the first of my angels to leave, though Mary and Simon had fallen before that. Then Mary ran away, this time swearing to never return. And she didn't, and she didn't call or anything. She was the second of my angels to leave. Then one day, Robbie vanished. He never said a word, and he meant so much to me. He showed me that angels can be redeemed-that was more important than my real angels.
And by the time Lucy got married, I can't remember them being there at all. But they were, they had to be, for they are too small yet to leave me.
So why have I pushed them away? I remember loving them, I remember. But why don't I now? Where are my angels? I could be talking to the most blonde I ever met, but where are they?
I search; looking more and more frantically, not knowing if I am more afraid that they are gone or that they have made a mess. And why am I like that? Why don't I know?
Behind the couch. With Happy. Why are they there? And what I see shocks me. They have all their toys back there, and Happy lying peacefully beside them. "Hi Sam, hi David."
"Hi Mommy," they say together. Why do they always talk together? And why can't my four year old children talk? Sam turns to David and says, "Road, I just come out of the ship." And David laughs and laughs. I can't even understand them, my babies. My sons, why can't they speak English? Didn't someone teach them? Didn't I? And why do I hear my angels laugh so rarely? And why do I never hear them cry? When did I lose my angels?
I sit down with them, and they have nothing to say. "Mommy wants to know what you guys are doing."
"Nothing bad, Mommy," they say together again.
And knowing that I hear their voices for the first time I want to cry. But I don't deserve to. I lost my angels. This is my fault. My last angels and they fell through no fault of their own.
It's my fault. I had too many children. Seven-and I can name them all, all my angels. Matt, Mary, Lucy, Simon, Ruthie, the twins. But then there was Robbie, Kevin, Ben, and Peter. Too many people, asking too much. But I let them ask. The older ones could appreciate me. Could say thank you. Sam and David never could. But that's my fault too, isn't it? Why did I lose my angels?
When did I stop being a mother? I never wanted being wife and mother to be all my being, but in all the weddings and all the boyfriends and all the girlfriends I forgot that it was the most important part of my being. We all forgot you, I want to tell them. I'm sorry. But they are too far gone for me.
I should send them somewhere else. Get them out of this house, where they are not the angels they should be. Maybe Julie and Hank can take them. I know that Hank suspects that there is something wrong with this family. But I can't do that; it would break Eric's heart. (And it's already been broken twice.) But Eric doesn't watch them either. We are bad for our angels. They have to go somewhere else. I find somewhere for them, if it's the last thing I do.
It's the least I can do. The very least. I thought they would be my angels, but I forgot about them. Let them be someone else's angels.
Happy starts barking, and Ruthie walks in. It is only then that I realize how much noise Sam and David are making. Ruthie smirks and says, "Hi mom are you having fun? And now you are on your way to a new tension headache." She half turns. "I'm going to Peter's. I'll be back for dinner." And she leaves without me ever having to say a word.
I'm not getting a tension headache; I'm getting a grief headache. And I deserve much more pain.
-Born Slippy- drive boy dog boy dirty numb angel boy
in the doorway boy she was a lipstick boy
she was a beautiful boy and tears boy
and all in your innerspace boy you had
hands girl boy and steel boy you had
chemicals boy ive grown so close to you
boy and you just groan boy she said
comeover comeover she smiled at you boy.
let your feelings slip boy but never your mask boy
random blonde bio high density rhythm blonde boy
blonde country blonde high density
you are my drug boy youre real boy speak to me
and boy dog dirty numb cracking boy
you get wet boy big big time boy
acid bear boy babes and babes and babes and
babes and babes and remembering nothing boy.
you like my tin horn boy and get wet like an angel.
derail.
you got a velvet mouth youre so succulent and beautiful
shimmering and dirty wonderful and hot times
on your telephone line and god and everything
on your telephone and in walk an angel.
and look at me your mom squatting pissed in
a tube hole at tottenham court
road i just come out of the ship
talking to the most blonde i ever met.
shouting
lager lager lager lager shouting
lager lager lager lager shouting
lager lager lager shouting
mega mega white thing mega mega white thing
mega mega white thing mega mega shouting
lager lager lager lager mega mega white thing
mega mega white thing
so many things to see and do in the tube hole
true blonde going back to romford
mega mega mega going back to romford
hi mom are you having fun and now are you on
your way to a new tension headache
They were my last chance. My last babies, a chance to do everything right, with all I'd learned. My oldest was going to college, and he'd been valedictorian, so I must have done something right. So I was so happy for this last chance.
I love babies. Babes and babes and remembering nothing else. And they were so blonde, and so perfect-like little angels. I loved them. I remember loving them. But what happened? We were all a family, once, and they were the babies of all of us.
But then Matt went off to college. And he stayed and stayed. And I wanted him to stay, to guard his angel brothers, but something in me knew that he should leave. And then Simon got drunk. And Matt married Sarah. And all of a sudden he was in New York. He was the first of my angels to leave, though Mary and Simon had fallen before that. Then Mary ran away, this time swearing to never return. And she didn't, and she didn't call or anything. She was the second of my angels to leave. Then one day, Robbie vanished. He never said a word, and he meant so much to me. He showed me that angels can be redeemed-that was more important than my real angels.
And by the time Lucy got married, I can't remember them being there at all. But they were, they had to be, for they are too small yet to leave me.
So why have I pushed them away? I remember loving them, I remember. But why don't I now? Where are my angels? I could be talking to the most blonde I ever met, but where are they?
I search; looking more and more frantically, not knowing if I am more afraid that they are gone or that they have made a mess. And why am I like that? Why don't I know?
Behind the couch. With Happy. Why are they there? And what I see shocks me. They have all their toys back there, and Happy lying peacefully beside them. "Hi Sam, hi David."
"Hi Mommy," they say together. Why do they always talk together? And why can't my four year old children talk? Sam turns to David and says, "Road, I just come out of the ship." And David laughs and laughs. I can't even understand them, my babies. My sons, why can't they speak English? Didn't someone teach them? Didn't I? And why do I hear my angels laugh so rarely? And why do I never hear them cry? When did I lose my angels?
I sit down with them, and they have nothing to say. "Mommy wants to know what you guys are doing."
"Nothing bad, Mommy," they say together again.
And knowing that I hear their voices for the first time I want to cry. But I don't deserve to. I lost my angels. This is my fault. My last angels and they fell through no fault of their own.
It's my fault. I had too many children. Seven-and I can name them all, all my angels. Matt, Mary, Lucy, Simon, Ruthie, the twins. But then there was Robbie, Kevin, Ben, and Peter. Too many people, asking too much. But I let them ask. The older ones could appreciate me. Could say thank you. Sam and David never could. But that's my fault too, isn't it? Why did I lose my angels?
When did I stop being a mother? I never wanted being wife and mother to be all my being, but in all the weddings and all the boyfriends and all the girlfriends I forgot that it was the most important part of my being. We all forgot you, I want to tell them. I'm sorry. But they are too far gone for me.
I should send them somewhere else. Get them out of this house, where they are not the angels they should be. Maybe Julie and Hank can take them. I know that Hank suspects that there is something wrong with this family. But I can't do that; it would break Eric's heart. (And it's already been broken twice.) But Eric doesn't watch them either. We are bad for our angels. They have to go somewhere else. I find somewhere for them, if it's the last thing I do.
It's the least I can do. The very least. I thought they would be my angels, but I forgot about them. Let them be someone else's angels.
Happy starts barking, and Ruthie walks in. It is only then that I realize how much noise Sam and David are making. Ruthie smirks and says, "Hi mom are you having fun? And now you are on your way to a new tension headache." She half turns. "I'm going to Peter's. I'll be back for dinner." And she leaves without me ever having to say a word.
I'm not getting a tension headache; I'm getting a grief headache. And I deserve much more pain.
-Born Slippy- drive boy dog boy dirty numb angel boy
in the doorway boy she was a lipstick boy
she was a beautiful boy and tears boy
and all in your innerspace boy you had
hands girl boy and steel boy you had
chemicals boy ive grown so close to you
boy and you just groan boy she said
comeover comeover she smiled at you boy.
let your feelings slip boy but never your mask boy
random blonde bio high density rhythm blonde boy
blonde country blonde high density
you are my drug boy youre real boy speak to me
and boy dog dirty numb cracking boy
you get wet boy big big time boy
acid bear boy babes and babes and babes and
babes and babes and remembering nothing boy.
you like my tin horn boy and get wet like an angel.
derail.
you got a velvet mouth youre so succulent and beautiful
shimmering and dirty wonderful and hot times
on your telephone line and god and everything
on your telephone and in walk an angel.
and look at me your mom squatting pissed in
a tube hole at tottenham court
road i just come out of the ship
talking to the most blonde i ever met.
shouting
lager lager lager lager shouting
lager lager lager lager shouting
lager lager lager shouting
mega mega white thing mega mega white thing
mega mega white thing mega mega shouting
lager lager lager lager mega mega white thing
mega mega white thing
so many things to see and do in the tube hole
true blonde going back to romford
mega mega mega going back to romford
hi mom are you having fun and now are you on
your way to a new tension headache