Caroline Smith and the Good Night Sleeps
Tanktop
The rain on the sill has started dripping againand you are fast asleep by tenand now I am alone in a world of disgraceto search for my poor mother's face in it all.And now I think:Six months ago I'd have climbed down his stairsto find him in his underwear.And I'd have climbed in his bed with blankets over our headsto dream of making that honey bread that we'd make.Ain't that how it always seems to go?How it goes.How it goes.No Mr., Mrs., Ma'am or Sir,with us those words just never workedand now we aren't on speaking terms.No favors slid beneath the tablenot even if we're counting able;just you and me in our short sleevesbut you cut yours off so I guess that makes it a tanktopand side by side's where we decided that.Ain't that how it always seems to go?When something good comes, it goes.Ain't that how it always seems to go?How it goes.How it goes.
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