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On the corner there's this nice man |
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His name is Mark, He's always smiling |
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|
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He's got this mom who comes on |
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Wednesdays In the evening with soup so steaming |
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|
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He shares his house with his friend Martin |
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They're not brothers, they're not cousins |
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|
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My little girl wonders all about these men |
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I take hold of her hand, and I begin |
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|
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Home is where the heart is |
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|
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No matter how the heart lives Inside your heart where love is |
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That's where you've got to make yourse |
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|
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lf At home Across the yard live |
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Deb and Tricia |
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With their tools and ladders |
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And their room addition |
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|
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My kid yells over, |
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"Are ya having a baby?" |
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They wink and smile, they say, |
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"Someday maybe." |
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|
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But through their doors go kids and mommies |
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|
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Funny how you don't see the daddies go in |
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|
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My little girl wonders ' |
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Bout this house with no men, |
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I take hold of her hand |
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And I begin |
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|
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'Round the corner, here comes |
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Martin He's alone now, he tries smiling |
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He roams around his well stocked kitchen |
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He knows that fate will soon be coming |
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My little girl wonders where he will live |
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|
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I take hold of her hand and I begin |
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Martin sits and waits with his windows open |
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His house is empty, his heart is broken |
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We bring him toys and watercolors |
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He loves to hear my little baby's stories |
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She's the gift I share |
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She's his companion |
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She's the string on the kite |
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She guides him into the wind |
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My little girl wonders who will care for him |
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We take hold of his hand and we begin |