Its three a.m. and Virgil's passed out on the sofa,
A fifth of Jim Beam on the floor.
She's packed a bag, she slips the keys out of his pocket.
She's careful not to slam the door.
And as she drives she rubs her rosary.
She's never been so all alone, she's never felt so free.
She's got miles to go,
Blind faith and hope.
Cause there's another chance, and a
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