I watch them wheel on down the hall
then come back up,
prepared to fall
back into the daily grind.....
God I wish that they could find

Some way out
or some way in.
Some way to get back home again.

Wilma sits there by the door.
She's waiting
as she's done before
so many times, so many days
and there are just a few small ways

that I can help
to give her hope,
or simply find a way to cope.

Ellen calls me by my name.
Which makes no sense
for it's the same.
Every afternoon at three,
I'm not who I seem to be.

I wish I were.
For maybe then
I could bring them home again.