Our darling young heart, so eager to learn.

She's following the hogs around. See? She's alright.

Back in oh-nine, our blockheaded son, drunk behind the woodpile, called you near.

Then sirens, and men, and you feel a need to retch.

Cindy, you were strong, woman.

I fell so low. Shirked responsibilities.

Set upon my own drinking.

Through a fog, through grief, old dreams come back to me.

Women and men regathered in silence that clung.

Dammit breathe some voice implored. She breathed. She was alright.

But that longest night had barely begun, and soon I'd know that suffering is a son won't be unborn.

The woodpile again and again our son gon' know.

Stupid drinking boneheaded.

I struck him low. Striped him 'til you gathered me.

Stupid men need strong women.

Through a fog, through grief, old dreams come back to me.

At least I know she's got these friends.

At least I know she's alright.

That's all I need.

Somehow today it seems the dream's in tow.

Cindy, you are strong, woman.

I fall in love every single day or three.

And darling heart has hog buddies.

By the hogs, through grief, old dreams come back to me.

Through the fog, through grief, old dreams come back to me.