Greg Allen - Rosa

She said she felt an aching,

And went to lay down and died in her room, alone.

He said he tried to wake her,

Oh, how he tried, but she didn’t move

And he was in the T.V. room.

Maybe on that day he loved her more than his own life

And maybe on that day he wished it was he who could have died

Maybe on that day he felt his body disappear into the space

Next to her on the bed.

Greg grew up under his dad’s hand

Pushing tractors, pushing snuff into his face out in the field,

But the doctors said his gut just wasn’t fixable right now

And anyway, a country man can’t pay those city bills.

Well my uncle and aunt put him up in a hospital room.

One day he said «Daddy, I see God, but I just ain’t ready to go.

But Grampa’s at my shoulder, and he swears I’m not alone.»

Well on that day, I saw my uncle cry for his dead son.

We were all left alone, without a flag and gun salute

And held my sister’s hand as we sat silent pew.

Oh Katie, Katie, you spoke beautifully that day,

And I’m sure you know that firm handshake

Meant more than he could ever say.