Let me tell you about the last straw.
She’s broken, her back aches, tension upon her shoulders.
Her lips no longer hold a smile.
The last straw she lets go; you know the one, it's a short fuse
To speed time up.
All she needs is the spark.
The fire to light that straw up.
Let me tell you about the last straw.
She’s dry as a bone and smoking already.