| She said, «Andy, you’re better than your past»
|
| Winked at me and drained her glass
|
| Crosslegged on the barstool, like nobody sits anymore
|
| She said, «Andy, you’re taking me home»
|
| But I knew she planned to sleep alone
|
| I’d carry her to bed and sweep up the hair from the floor
|
| If I had fucked her before she got sick
|
| I’d never hear the end of it
|
| She don’t have the spirit for that now
|
| We just drink our drinks and laugh out loud
|
| Bitch about the weekend crowd
|
| And try to ignore the elephant somehow
|
| Somehow
|
| She said, «Andy, you crack me up»
|
| Seagrams in a coffee cup
|
| Sharecropper eyes and her hair almost all gone
|
| When she was drunk she made cancer jokes
|
| Made up her own doctor’s notes
|
| Surrounded by her family, I saw that she was dying alone
|
| I’d sing her classic country songs
|
| And she’d get high and sing along
|
| She don’t have a voice to sing with now
|
| We burn these joints in effigy
|
| Cry about what we used to be
|
| Try to ignore the elephant somehow
|
| Somehow
|
| I’ve buried her a thousand times
|
| Giving up my place in line
|
| But I don’t give a damn about that now
|
| There’s one thing that’s real clear to me:
|
| No one dies with dignity
|
| We just try to ignore the elephant somehow
|
| We just try to ignore the elephant somehow
|
| We just try to ignore the elephant somehow
|
| Somehow
|
| Somehow |