| In the jukebox of her memory
|
| The list of names flips by and stops
|
| And she closes her eyes
|
| And smiles as the record drops
|
| Then she drinks herself up and out of her kitchen chair
|
| And she dances out of time
|
| As slow as she can sway
|
| As long as she can say
|
| This dance is mine
|
| This dance is mine
|
| Her hair bears silent witness
|
| To the passing of time
|
| Tattoos like mile markers
|
| Map the distance she has come
|
| Winning some, losing some
|
| But she says my sister still calls every sunday night
|
| After the rates go down
|
| And i still can never manage to say anything right
|
| And my whole life blew up
|
| And now it’s all coming down
|
| She says, leave me alone
|
| Tonight i just wanna stay home
|
| She fills the pot with water
|
| And she drops in the bone
|
| She says, i’ve got a darkness that i have to feed
|
| I got a sadness that grows up around me like a weed
|
| And i’m not hurting anyone
|
| I’m just spiraling in
|
| And then she closes her eyes
|
| And hears the song begin again
|
| She appreciates the phone calls
|
| The consoling cards and such
|
| She appreciates all the people
|
| Who come by and try to pull her back in touch
|
| They try to hold the lid down tightly
|
| And they try to shake well
|
| But the oil and water
|
| They just wanna separate themselves
|
| She drinks herself up and out of her kitchen chair
|
| And she dances out of time
|
| As slow as she can sway
|
| As long as she can say
|
| This dance is mine
|
| This dance is mine
|
| This dance is mine |