It’s hard enough losing, without the confusion of knowing I tried. But you’ve made your mind up; that I’ll be alone now, there’s nothing to hide.

There’s a fever on the freeway; blacks out the night. There’s a slipping on the stairway – just don’t feel right. And there’s a rumbling in the bedroom and a flashing of light; [then] there’s the old laughing lady, [and] everything is all right.

What if she came to me -  would she be kind? And if she stayed with me – do you think that she’d like to do anything I would, or would she leave me?

There was a woman he knew about a year or so ago: she had something that he needed, and he pleaded with her not to go. On the day that she left, he died, but it did not show.