Fake roses on the mantle Elvis postcards on the fridge
Ed lays softly by the ringer Baby's sleeping in the crib
Old broken taped up tail light On momma's Monte Carlo
She don't open all the gas bills Just leaves it on the dashboard
* It's a low and lonesome song When the wind sweeps through the pine
She just turns the TV on Puts her mind on better times
Takes the long way home from work Car parked on the wrong side of the bridge
Country gold, Saturday night, and smokes one You don't have to tell me any of this
( * )
Your heart is breaking I hear what you're saying You don't have to tell me anything
He won't come around again She don't open that front door
She hears that low and lonesome sound She don't answer anymore
