The Long and Winding Road: Tribute to Aunt Ada

She lifts her skirt up to her knees
Walk through the garden rows
With her bare feet laughing

I never learned to count my blessings
I choose instead to dwell
In my disasters

I walk on down the hill
Through grass grown tall
And brown and still
It's hard somehow
To let go of my pain

On past the busted back
Of that old and rusted Cadillac
That sinks into this field
Collecting rain

Will I always feel this way
So empty
And estranged?

And of these cut throat busted sunsets
These cold and damp white mornings
I have grown weary

If through my cracked and dusty
Dime store lips
I spoke these words out loud
Would no one hear me?

There's a lot of things
That can kill a woman
There's a lot of ways
To die
Yes, and some already did
And walk beside me

It's the hurt I hide that fuels
The fire inside me