| I had a show a few weeks ago
|
| It’s getting harder and harder to sing
|
| And it is hard to focus on my guitar playing
|
| When inside a baby is kicking
|
| At first I was sad and scared
|
| 'Cause this is all I know how to do
|
| Then John and Peter played standing up
|
| Sometimes something will change
|
| And that change will change you
|
| Then I thought back to six years ago
|
| When Brian Pilkton told me to play
|
| He gave me a car, a typewriter, a guitar
|
| Before that all I could do was count days
|
| Then I thought back to before my coma
|
| Rehab in Tacoma, my junkie roommates
|
| And all that I knew how to do was
|
| Put cigarettes out on myself, I took pills and I drank
|
| And I thought back to when I was 15
|
| How I was squeaky clean and I wanted to die
|
| I was feeding the homeless while combating loneliness
|
| All I could do was keep living a lie
|
| Then I think back to that 12 year old poet
|
| How she didn’t know it was what she would be
|
| All she could do was hide under her bed
|
| Scared to death that somebody might read her diary
|
| You see I have changed and I’ll keep on changing
|
| And maybe my song-writing will suffer
|
| But it’s okay if at the end of the day
|
| All I can do next is just be a good mother
|
| It’s okay if at the end of the day
|
| All I can do next is be a good mother |