Amy shines golden like I never could.
Her smile beams out of her face, sunny
Her daughter's angelic a little silver star,
Cyra's curls with Amy's Maralyn mop.
When Cyra cries, Amy promises smarties.
Pink ones, like Cyra's sparkly glittery shoes.
Amy drives round and we go to the flowery park.
She'll buy Cyra and I strawberry ice creams.
And when Amy cries her tears are transparent.
Like the vodka she'll shoot and we'll share.
I listen as she breaks down and talks of death.
Talks of Cyra, hard life, hardships, hard times.
Amy thinks about killing herself sometimes.
Cyra's father left when Amy was eighteen.
She's tired of being strong, tired of being let down.
But Amy shines golden like I never could.