He sits there by the door each day
when the light starts fading down.
His hair's still thumping on the floor,
the same old patient sound.
I tried to tell him she's not coming back in all the ways I know,
but he just looks at me,
then back to where she'd go.
At six o'clock he's waiting still,
loyal as the rain.
He don't understand she left for good,
he just knows her name.
I put my hand down on his head,
he barely even moves.
His ears * up at every step,
that ain't his shoes.
Six o'clock he's waiting still,
faithful as a stone.
And I sit here on the kitchen floor,
two of us alone, the two of us alone.
