Fake Roses

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

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

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.