The old shed with the rusted bikes,
The red one that he always liked,
She sees the tears, that disappear, by wrinkles in the looking glass,
He yells from the study, it cant stay this way!
One more day, she asks?
She wraps it in his blanket, opens the drawer, and puts the gun away,
She turns and trips over a forgotten toy, he adored when he was a boy,
On her knees she looks through the dirty skylight and asks, can I come home?
He is coming up the steps, using that horrible tone,
She whispers, Lord Im done, pulls the drawer open again, and takes out the gun,
As she sees what it all could have been, and before the darkness begins, she pleads, let me see him again.....