There's credit cards and cocaine on the counter
And tequila on the floor
I haven't told a single soul here about her
I don't talk much anymore
We spent our days pretending she'd recover
But that didn't stand the test of time
So I feed the dirt, put the dishes in the cupboard
And leave the past behind
But leaving used to only mean til next time
And dying was for people that we didn't really know
But they took down her clothesline, cut the phone line, and sold the radio
There's some cash between the books up on the shelf
So pay the bills they'll just keep piling
Says I loved you kids more than I did myself
And somehow she still was smiling
But leaving used to only mean til next time
And dying was for people that we didn't really know
But they took down her clothesline, cut the phone line, and sold the radio
There's credit cards and cocaine on the counter
And tequila on the floor
I haven't thought an awful lot about her
I don't think much anymore