(Brian Wooodbury/Peter Lurye)

She’s out of jail again, on work release.
Tryin’ every scheme and scam.
Her pocket full of fake ID’s.
Sixteen warrants. Seven pleas.
A week or two, and she’ll be on the lam.

He was her free lunch and her guarantee.
Her no-luck little lucky charm.
The one they couldn’t take away.
A ticket someone else would pay.
But to him, well, she was just his mom.

Here she comes, raisin’ his hopes.
Keepin’ him up late, smokin’ her dope.
Buyin’ him toys on a stolen credit card.
Here she comes, raisin’ his hopes.
There she goes, breakin’ his heart.

Daddy spent his savings winning custody
She gets the boy on Sunday afternoon.
Daddy tries to hold his tongue.
“Of course your mama loves you, son.”
She shows up late, and drops him off too soon.

Instead of dinner, she makes promises.
She‘ll come see his play at school.
But dressed up like a Christmas tree,
he looks around the gym to see
that one more time she’s played him for a fool.

Here she comes, tellin’ a lie.
Makin’ him laugh. Lettin’ him cry.
Talkin’ a future that’s over from the start.
Here she comes, raisin’ his hopes.
There she goes, breakin’ his heart,

She was never meant to be a mother.
Couldn’t teach him how to always do what’s best.
For the boy there’ll never be another.
How’ll he ever learn to clean up all her mess?

And here she comes, lettin’ him down.
Inviting him over and then skippin’ town
He’ll try to forgive her.
That’ll be the hardest part,
Here she comes, raisin’ his hopes.
There she goes, breakin’ his heart.