In an attic of a clapboard house, on a shady summer street
There's a desk by a window and a chair with a velvet seat
My mother is the third-born girl of your older brother Mike
And I ask her to tell me the story of the shadows of your life

Could it be your eyes were blue, perhaps your hair was born
Did you carry your memories from the Irish town
Where you set sail with your family, across the ocean deep and wide?
Did you say goodbye to your childhood on the day your mother died?

Lilly, sing out your verses
Lilly, oh Lilly sing high
From the pages of the diary I wish you'd left behind

They'd have found it self-indulgent, a waste of money and time
For a woman to trifle the hours of the day exploring her own mind
Did your father and brothers treasure you, Lil, as you cooked and cleaned each day
Did they leave a shred of pride in your soul, did you scrub it all away?

Lilly, sing out your verses
Lilly, oh Lilly sing high
From the pages of the diary I wish you'd left behind

In an attic of a clapboard house, in a place I'll never go
There's a desk that's covered up with dust, and a life I'll never know
Lilly, I love my freedom, I love to speak my mind
And I shudder to think what my fate might have been, had I lived back in your time

I can see myself in your shoes
I can hear them calling me crazy
I can feel your torment swallow you up
As they locked the door and walked away


© Ponderin' Peaches Publishing (BMI)