"You can't break me."
She's been drinking again
because her eyes are red from crying and she's out
on the road again.
She's breaking down now.
I think she's far gone
before she comes back,
again.
Finishes her last beer and climbs into the car,
six months to live.
Do you
have that much time left?
Her headlights are gone again.
She's out smoking by the shed
because the air is filled
with pain
again.
She doesn't understand again.
As she goes away again, I stare
down at my scratched hand and think
again.
Last chance to say
before we part
goodbye again.
Goodbye.