She looks at the clock, it's a quarter past nine.
She hears his car as he pulls in the drive.
Dinner's still waiting from hours before.
She knows he's been drinking when he walks through the door.
In anger he strikes out and she starts to cry.
How much more can she take, how much more can
And she fell down the stairs again.
But it hasn't happened since she don't know when.
Was it in spring when she packed up the kids, or
maybe in winter with his job on the skids.
Oh but just like before...
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