Sweet Loraine linked her thoughts to her soul
Picked up a pen with paper twas' all she was to know
Sitting there nice all throughout the hot night
She gripped her pen but not her soul so tight

Morning broke quick as she picked up her lids
Coffee was burnt and the baby had unbottoned her bib
Looking right down at a paper that shone gold
As if God had come down showed her what she'd already known

Grey moving monday with the streets looking bleak
Her mouthed move fast but not a thing came to speak
On the road she put her feet shoes ain't even on
Humming to herself to the grocery in a weird kind of song

Neat old ****** was the way she lived her life
Tapping away with her fingers and the tips of her toes
Baby grew up to be the president of the world
Ain't ever gonna listen to what he'll be told