Almost homenWhen I missed the bottom stairnYou were braiding your gray hairnIt had grown so longnSince I'd been gonennAnd the perfect girlsnBy the pool, they would protestnThe cross around their necksnBut our sons were overseasnAnd we all know about the hive and the honey beesnnAlmost homenWith an olive branch and a dovenYou were beating on a Persian rugnWith your bible and your wedding bandnBoth hidden on a TV standnnAnd the cruel wind blewnEvery city father fellnOff the county carouselnWhile the dogs were eating snownAll our sons had sunk in a trunk of Noah's clothesnnAlmost homenWe got lost on our new streetnWhile your grieving girls all died in their sleepnSo the dogs all went unfednA great dream of bones all piled on the bednnAnd the cops couldn't carenWhen that crackhead built a boatnAnd said, Please, before I gonMay our only honored bonenBe the kinship of the kids and the riot squad