she says it's unfair,
she says that bad things happen to good people,
she says that as each day passes
she dies a little more inside.
she doesn't remember telling me these things,
ya know she wouldn't never tell nobody
if it wasn't for the drink in her hand.
i know i'm not supposed to hear these things,
but i quietly listen.
i don't have no words for her,
on the count of i ain't never experienced nothing like that.
i have a feeling she wouldn't want my words anyhow.

she says that people are always tryin' to tell her
that she gonna be okay.
she knows she's not.
it's unfair that they all gon' lie to her like that.
she don't want my sympathy she says,
but lord i can't help but feel it for her.

there's things in life that just don't make sense,
i say.
but i don't know much about anything,
so i just make eyes like someone who knows
a lot about everything,
but i don't say much else.

she looked at me,
took a swig a her whiskey sour,
and told me that when i can look at the world
through eyes that see
and not watch
then maybe someday she'll tell me a thing or two
about life not makin' sense.