Out the broken window, of the broken home,
Sits a broken widow, crying all alone

Out the broken window, upon a broken stone
Underneath a withered willow, branches completely outgrown

Out the broken window, her broken tears have crawled
Upon a broken pillow, her head remains enthralled

Out the broken window, broken love has flown
Away with a mourning crow, life soared into a cyclone

Out the broken window, her broken hands quaver
Her broken heart dies, with no one here to save her

Out the broken window, her broken thoughts are no longer shown,
It’s time to go; the pistol tranquil, as she sits all alone

 
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