Last night we lost a star.
Found a bullet in her head.
A few short minutes and she slipped into the end.
And maybe a door got slammed in my face.
But we kept on trying.
Remember We can grow young.
But a broken home may undo a mended heart.
I can't believe I didn't make the turn.
I'm driving down dirtroads.
I'm talking through locked doors.
Make believe fame and fortune, to drown our sorrows, not knowing for one there will be no tomorrow.
And now there are boxes of old clothes and worn shoes.
And I remember how they moved.
And I can feel life in all of this.
I can't believe I didn't make the turn.
There's unfinished homework and an unfinished life left.
She's waiting for her babies to come home, because this wasn't the first time it had happened.