he waved her down to where he stood
but lost her in the neighborhood
of several hundred thousand other people
and by the time she found him there
his drink was lost, she couldn't care
she stood there drenched in sweat beneath the steeple

and never mind the dusty ground
with legs to watch, and Stanky Brown
is dragging through his medley, nasty fella
next time, carry her own chair
and iced cold water, put it there
a shady spot, not hot, beneath the 'brella

whining eyes,
like her mother
he never knew it, but she cries
like no other
he'll see her through it
'til she dies
oh no~

it's better now, she doesn't care, he'll find her here, or meet her where
the mist is cool, and nearer to the porties
she only wants to find her place, a laggard in the human race
and rather cold, she's old, for in her forties

sometimes it takes you years to learn the smartest way is not to burn
though some folks like to hang out in the trenches
next time she will plan ahead and carry her own banner head and wave it high above the other wenches

these whining eyes,
like my mother
I never knew it,
but
she cries
like no other
I'll see her through it
'til she dies
oh no