[Storyteller.]

Colleen was sitting all alone,
over by the steel stove, waiting
in the corner of a smoky bar.
Just got in from New York State,
waiting on a dinner plate and taking
everything she could for what it's worth.

Her worn out sneakers and ripped up soles,
tired eyes and a pointed nose,
and all the things that she'd been through.
Colleen.

She's talking on her cell phone -
leave a message at the tone -
lately, she just feels all alone.
Can't believe the things she said;
the beer was rushing to her head
and maybe her fleeting heart just
wouldn't want to go.

Her swollen knees and a ripped up shirt,
tired eyes and a checkered skirt,
and all the things that she'd been through.

Hang on Colleen;
things are not what
they seem to be.
You're not alone -
someone cares...