She unscrews the top of a new whiskey bottle And shuffles about in her candle lit hovel, Like some kind of witch with blue fingers in mittens She smells like the cat and the neighbours she sickens, The black and white t.v. has long seen a picture The cross on the wall is a permanent fixture, The postman delivers the final reminders She sells off her silver and poodles in china. Drinks to remember, I me and myself And winds up the clock And knocks dust from the shelf Home is a love that I miss very much So the past has been bottled and labelled with love.
During the war time an american pilot Made every air raid a time of excitement, She moved to his prairie and married the texan She learnt from a distance how love was a lesson, He became drinker and she became mother She knew that one day she'd be one or the other, He ate himself older, drunk himself dizzy Proud of her features, she kept herself pretty.
He like a cowboy died drunk in his slumber Out on the porch in the middle of summer, She crossed the ocean back home to her family But they had retired to roads that were sandy, She moved home alone without friends or relations Lived in a world full of age reservation, On moth eaten armchairs she'd say that she'd sod all The friends who had left her to drink from the bottle.
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