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I can hardly stand the sight of lipstickOn the cigarettes there in the ashtray.Lying cold the way you left them,But at least your lips caressed themWhile you packed.Or the lip print o a half-filled cupOf coffee that you pouredAnd didn't drink.But at least you thought you wanted itWhich is so much more than I can say for me.RefrainIt's been a good year for the rosesMany blooms still linger there.The lawn could stand another mowingIt's funny, I don't even careBut as you turned and walked awayAs the door behind you closesThe only thing I thought to sayWas what a good year for the rosesAfter three, four years of marriageIt's the first time that you haven't made the bedI guess the reason we're not talking,Is there's so little left to say that we haven't saidWhile a million thoughts go racing through my mindI guess I haven't said a wordFrom the bedroom, the familiar soundOf our one baby's crying goes unheard
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