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The Reverend John DeLore
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Baby Teeth (all She Wrote)
Sorrow is just another pain in the body, like the breaking of a bone,
But none of us would cuss half as much if we were dying in a room alone.
The streets remain crowded with a throng of a million rich men's wives,
And the poor man must keep living in his hole just to save these women's lives.
Where were you in my hour of need?
Grow up girl take out your baby teeth.
Well the fire on the TV screen, it says to me that this game it always lost.
And the angels of old don't play their harps anymore
Because they've all got their fingers crossed.
Now she's dressed in rags and holding bags of smoke.
She leans out her window and says, “Son bless your soul.”
And for all the world's ink and all the time she had to think,
This little prayer is all she wrote.
Where were you in my hour of need?
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Grow up girl take out your baby teeth for me.
Now you're up on that shelf just like one of those horses
that's made out of carnival glass
And your hair is fine and your legs shine but they ain't never met a blade of grass.
Now you're dressed in rags and holding bags of smoke.
you run across the street and hand me a note.
And for all the world's ink and all the time you had to think,
This little prayer is all she wrote.
Where were you in my hour of need?
Grow up girl take out your baby, take out your baby, take out your baby...
Where were you in my hour of need?
Grow up girl take out your baby teeth for me.
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