Molly's sitting on her bed 

It's Sunday afternoon 

Radio's playing outside 

TV bleeds from the next room 



Antiseptic in the air 

Nurses laughing down the hall 

Crooked feet in crooked shoes 

Her wooden cane against the wall 



It's Sunday but her Sunday clothes 

Are packed away somewhere 

She doesn't need them anymore 

Nothing to look her best for 



I'm thirteen, I'm with with my mother 

She doesn't know my name 

I remind her I'm Lucy 

But she looks at me the same 



Like I'm a stranger she should remember 

From a place she can't return 

We've only just walked in 

She says we've stayed too long 

Too proud to be remembered 

As a mother without a home 



Oh, it's time to go 

Oh, it's time to go 

It's a dirty trick this growing old 



We walk the halls anyway 

My mother holds her arm 

She's pleading with us to leave 

So we walk her to her room 

And we drive through the old neighborhood 

The grand homes of the South Side 

So many are abandoned now 

So many lifetimes locked inside 



And at the dinner table 

It's my parents and me 

I sneak looks at the two of them 

To see what they need from me 



And later she calls me over 

Where she sits alone 

She's polishing a silver ring 

I've never seen before 



She says this was Molly's 

It was her mother's ring 

I'm keeping it for you 

As she kept it for me 



Oh, it's time to go 

Oh, it's time to go 

It's a dirty trick this growing old 



I'm told Molly was so proud to have 

Another baby girl 

Her only granddaughter 

But I don't remember 



This is what I remember