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It's one more morning after as she reaches for the phone |
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No he won't be going into work today |
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It's aspirin for his breakfast as she puts some coffee on |
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The night before still showing on his face |
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He lies to her, |
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She's learned to lie for him. |
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The curtains are draw, |
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The truth can't find it s way in |
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She can keep his little secret from everybody else, |
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She can hide that whiskey bottle a little higher on the shelf, |
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But she can't save him from himself. |
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She puts on her make-up and she paints on a smile |
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Packs some clothes inside an old suitcase |
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She pulls off of the highway and she checks into a Comfort inn |
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It's the key to her temporary state of grace |
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She's been his rock, |
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She's been his angel, |
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But she can't be his god, |
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And deliver him from the gates of Hell. |
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She can keep his little secret from everybody else, |
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She can hide that whiskey bottle a little higher on the shelf, |
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But she can't save him from himself. |
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And she says a prayer for both of them |
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'Cause she's realized at last |
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That without tasting a single drop |
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She's been drinking from the very same glass |
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She can keep his little secret from everybody else, |
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She can hide that whiskey bottle a little higher on the shelf, |
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But she can't save him, |
|
She can't save him, |
