And I miss the bottom stair

You were braiding your grey hair

And it's grown so long

Since I've been gone



Now the perfect girls,

By the pool, they would protest

With crosses 'round their necks,

But our sons were overseas,

And we all know about the hive and the honey bees.



Almost home

With an olive branch and a dove

You were beating on a persian rug

With your Bible and your wedding band

Both hidden on the TV stand.



And the cruel wind blew

Every city father fell

Off the county carousel

While the dogs were eating snow

All our sons had sunk in a trunk

Of no one's clothes



Almost home,

We got lost on our new street,

While your grieving girls all died in their sleep,

So the dogs all went unfed,

A great dream of bones all piled on a bed



And the cops couldn't care,

When that crackhead built a boat

And said, "please, before I go

May your only honor bought

Be the kinship of the kids in the riot squad."