No dead presidents in her pockets,
No more presents for the stockings.
Hearing her pain in every word,
She's doing her best but can't handle the world,
Because around here it's always been drips and drops
The wheels are turning and the rubber is burning.
The parents are not sleeping and the kids are not eating.
The babies weeping echoes through the streets.

Now it's hard to understand the kind of pain in her hands.
Because this was never, Never, part of the plan.
And now she stays up wondering if she can,
Go on with a life that is only comprised
Every night of endless strife.
And the bills are always flowing.
And there's never any knowing when the next paycheck will appear.
It's been almost a year...

But she holds on to hope.
She pushes on in her fight.
She fights for her babies to have the chance to live life.
Lives worth living, ones that will be better than her's,
One's where they may go far away but still remember her.
For she will have given them that chance,
Through those nights of blood, sweat and tears.
Lives they can live more many more years.