Dressed in white cotton
Staring at the phone
I was hiding in the attic
The day you left home
Mother I thought I saw you looking back
But that big black cadillac
Took you
Father is sleeping
Upright in his vest
I brushed away the ashes
They collect on his chest
Oh, he still thinks that you come back
That that big black cadillac
Is turning round
Mother I see you
But only in dreams
Put me in a basket
And you push me upstream
But I'm always drifting back
Where that big black cadillac
Took you.
Writer(s): Johnathan A. Rice, Jenny Diane Lewis
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