Bottle By My Bed

All my friends are raisin’ babies, I’m still raisin’ Cain
They must think because I’ve waited that I don’t want the same
Their days are spent changing diapers, they think mine are so exciting
Running off to where the light are so much brighter

It’s an empty room at the top of the stairs
Watching the evening news with a couple of beers
I only call my husband baby because I love the word
Never wanted something so bad that it hurts
Even give up these damned old cigarettes
If I could have a bottle by my bed