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She unscrews the top from her new whiskey bottle
Shuffles about in her candle lit hovel, like some kind of witch with blue fingers and mittens
She smells like a cat and the neighbors she sickens
Black and white TV had long seen a picture, the cross on the wall is a permanent fixture
The postman delivers the final reminders
She sells off her silver and poodles and china
Drinks to remember
I made it myself the chimes of the clock and the dust on the shelf
Home is a love that I miss very much
But the past has been bottled and labeled with love
During the wartime and American pilot made every air raid a time of excitement
She moved to his prairie and married a Texan
I looked from a distance their love was a lesson
He became drinker and she became lover she knew that one day she'd be one or the other
He ate himself older drunk himself dizzy, proud of her features she kept herself pretty
Drinks to remember
I made it myself the chimes of the clock and the dust on the shelf
Home is a love that I miss very much
But the past has been bottled and labeled with love
He like a cowboy died drunk in a slumber
Out on the porch in the middle of summer
She crossed the ocean back home to her family
But they had retired to roads that were sandy
She moved home alone without friends or relations
Lived in a world full of age reservations
A moth eaten object she'd say that she'd sod all her friends
Who had left her to drink from her bottle
Drinks to remember
I made it myself the chimes of the clock and the dust on the shelf
Home is a love that I miss very much
But the past has been bottled and labeled with love