Jesus, she says as she hung up the phone   She’s been in this situation for far too long      Too many reasons to take off on her own   She’s tragically dependent, afraid to die alone      And the laughter in the bedroom ceased long ago   But man if these walls could talk, they’d speak of fear and sorrow      Upset and bruised she lays on the floor   She prays to her God, he hits the booze and heads for the door      So she gets her things   And packs her bags   She gets her things   And packs her bags   Then puts them away for another day      He always comes back, begs and pleads   “I’m so sorry, baby, understand a mans got needs”      And she always takes him back, and tries to be   Supportive and understanding, though she knows he’s lying through his teeth      So she gets her things   And packs her bags   She gets her things   And packs her bags   Then puts them away for another day