I can hardly stand the sight of lipstick

On the cigarettes there in the ashtray

Lying cold the way you left them

But at least your lips caressed them

While you packed

Or the lip print on the half-filled cup

Of coffee that you poured

And didn't drink

But at least you thought you wanted it

Which is more so much more than I can say for me

But it's been a good year for the roses

Many blooms still linger there

The lawn could stand another mowin'

It's funny, I don't even care

But as you turned and walked away

As the door behind you closes

The only thing I thought to say

Was what a good year for the roses

After three or four years of marriage

It's the first time that you haven't made the bed

I guess the reason we're not talking,

Is there's so little left to say we haven't said

While millions of thoughts go racing through my mind

I guess I haven't said a word

For the bedroom, the familiar sound

Of our baby's crying goes unheard