Her first marriage, my first sorrow,
Was split with an axe
Leaving me to pick out decade long splinters
(Liquor here)
Her second man, the best I think,
Shot himself to end his pain
Piling it onto our shoulders, hearts, and minds instead
(More liquor there)
Her third husband, a month after the last,
When found out gathered his lies and ran away
Leaving a baby and resentment behind
(Now there\'s liquor everywhere)
Currently her fourth,
And crossing my fingers he\'s the end
But I don\'t expect much looking at her past