There's a candle in the corner of her cell,
It casts a shadow like a small child sleeping;
She hopes he's doing well, it's been a year on Friday,
She spent the evening weeping,
With her memories.

One small red shoe, hangs by its laces from her window,
She gave them to him when he was only two,
She feels his hot breath on her cold face, when the wind blows.

She keeps a small white bird inside her bra
It flies around the yard and back inside by night time
It never travels very far;
A trail of feathers led them to the right crime
Still her memories linger

One small red shoe, hangs by its laces from her window,
She gave them to him when he was only two,
She feels his hot breath on her cold face, when the wind blows.

She keeps a small red knife inside her shoe,
Carving notches on the bed head
For every day she'd wake there;
The old man's got the goods and chattels too;
Her lawyer said he'd take care
Of her memories.

He drives a white sports car around the town,
With a young girl in a blue dress,
her blonde hair wildly streaming,
She leans against his shoulder as he drives
They found a red shoe in the wreck,
she could hear the sirens screaming
In her memories.

One small red shoe, hangs by its laces from her window,
She gave them to him when he was only two,
She feels his hot breath on her cold face, when the wind blows