| She said she felt an aching, |
| And went to lay down and died in her room, alone. |
| He said he tried to wake her, |
| Oh, how he tried, but she didn’t move |
| And he was in the T.V. room. |
| Maybe on that day he loved her more than his own life |
| And maybe on that day he wished it was he who could have died |
| Maybe on that day he felt his body disappear into the space |
| Next to her on the bed. |
| Greg grew up under his dad’s hand |
| Pushing tractors, pushing snuff into his face out in the field, |
| But the doctors said his gut just wasn’t fixable right now |
| And anyway, a country man can’t pay those city bills. |
| Well my uncle and aunt put him up in a hospital room. |
| One day he said «Daddy, I see God, but I just ain’t ready to go. |
| But Grampa’s at my shoulder, and he swears I’m not alone.» |
| Well on that day, I saw my uncle cry for his dead son. |
| We were all left alone, without a flag and gun salute |
| And held my sister’s hand as we sat silent pew. |
| Oh Katie, Katie, you spoke beautifully that day, |
| And I’m sure you know that firm handshake |
| Meant more than he could ever say. |