Jason Isbell Elephant
She said Andy you're better than your past, winked at me and drained her glass, cross-legged on the barstool, like nobody sits anymore.
She said Andy you're taking me home, but I knew she planned to sleep alone. I'd carry her to bed and sweep up the hair from her floor
If I'd f..cked her before she got sick I'd never hear the end of it. she don't have the spirit for that now
We drink these drinks and laugh out loud, bitch about the weekend crowd, and try to ignore the elephant somehow...somehow.
She said Andy you crack me up, Seagrams in a coffee cup, sharecropper eyes and her hair almost all gone.
When she was drunk she made cancer jokes, made up her own doctor's notes, surrounded by her family, I saw that she was dying alone.
I'd sing her classic country songs and she'd get high and sing along. She don't have the voice to sing with me now.
We'd burn these joints in effegy, cry about what we used to be, and try to ignore the elephant somehow...somehow.
I buried her a thousand times, given up my place in line, but I don't give a damn about that now
There's one thing that's real clear to me, no one dies with dignity. We just try to ignore the elephant somehow.
We just try to ignore the elephant somehow.
We just try to ignore the elephant somehow.
Somehow.
Somehow.
