Bobbi Jo woke up late in the afternoon
To the sun shining across the valley
Went downstairs, there was no silver spoon
Her kitchen looked like someone’s alley
Alcohol and cigarettes
The breakfast of a former champ
Chased with loss and lots of regrets
Bobbi Jo is just a tramp.
She doesn’t cook her meals in a pot
She does it with a lighter and spoon
It’s not just the flame that gets hot
It’s the clammy hand of doom.
Tie the rubber on the vein
Tap the flesh and feed the need
Inject the needle, kill the pain
Throw it all away, indeed.
You count silence in the morning
Sleep until the sun goes down
The red in your head is another warning
That your lungs are sure to drown.
Bobbi Jo, what you don’t know
Is that the day gets no longer
The golden snow kills you slow
The shackles on your throat get stronger.
Bobbi Jo was once a queen
On silver chrome with wings of fire
But there’s no hope for a hungry teen
When they’re empty of all but desire.
In the silence of a blurry night
Bobbi Jo shot her last catch
She lost her breath and her sight
To the poison of a burning batch.
Now Bobbi Jo is in the ground
A wasted youth who lost her years
When the needle drags you down
You got nothing left but tears.