The Singer Not The Song

Oh. He liked to gamble
And he liked to drink and fight.
Sometimes he didn’t come home at night.
But when his fingers caressed the strings
And his words made you think of lovin’ things,
You knew what you’d heard
Was beyond words.

She loved hearth and home and him.
She loved the kids, fought life and limb
To find each day their daily bread
And keep a roof above their head.
At nights she’d sit at home and wait
Till love and patience turned to hate.

The years rolled by as years must do
The kids were gone, one by one.
She turned to drink and store bought pills
Then to the snow white dust that kills.
And she died.

He turned her death into a song
With chords that cried and breaths that sighed
And words that lied.
And once again, he did her wrong.

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