I don’t remember
The color of her bathroom tile
But I close my eyes and
Sit on her front porch for a while

Annie’s house is frozen in my memory now
Annie’s house is at the end of a road I don’t go down

Left the oven open
To keep the kitchen warm
The sound ringing in my mind tonight
Is that same old slamming screen door

Annie’s house is calling from a rotary telephone
Annie’s house is next door but a million miles gone

I’ll go to bed a little early tonight
I’ll pull her quilt up to my chest
Safe and warm, just like her kitchen
All in our Sunday best