Her picture's more than a photograph
The only thing that can make me laugh
A substitute just to numb the pain
But I'll be okay
I see her face on the interstate
But I know it's a cruel mistake
Sometimes I hope that I can escape
But there's no leaving this
I think too much, then I hate myself
I could never feel what she felt
My eyes grow wet whenever I hear her answering machine
Her garden died the month she did
She had it growing since she was a kid
Her mother wept, pointed and blamed me for
Not keeping up with it
I'm the bearer of bad news
I'm the subject of which I choose
I wrote this song on the way back home
A hundred cars, yet I'm all alone
I'll use the glow from these passing streetlights to
Write an ode to you
I found out ways to distract myself
You'd use them too if you felt how I felt
The night ravages and transforms me into
Some other dying thing
I never took off my wedding ring
It never felt like a ball and chain
Those drunken nights, you used to tease me that's
How it felt to you
I broke the news to my mom last week
Those four months were an eternity
My voice cracked and it sounded weak
And then she hung up the phone
They saw a singer who cannot sing
Scatter ashes by an old oak tree
Laura never knew
It would come her way
So soon
She says "It runs in the family
I just hoped it'd skip a gene"
And that's when she looked at me
With a defeated smile, she cries out
"Babe, I guess we'll be history"