She stands in the doorway
Her hands in the air
Reminding herself why she oughta care
But it takes so long for the drink to kick in
And the mood to resolve that feeling of sin

She looks out the window
The streets look quite old
Familiar surroundings and thre story is told
Growing up as an angel
Getting knocked to the ground
Tied to a lamp post
And never made a sound

But the thing that she misses (misses the most}
Is the smell from the kitchen
and her mother the host (Burnt toast!)