the thunder rolls
all that remains
three thirty in the morning
the city's looking like a ghost town
on a moonless summer night
raindrops on the windshield
there's a storm moving in
he's heading back from somewhere
that he never should have been
she's pacing by the telephone
in her faded flannel gown
that's kept him out all night
and the lightning strikes
she's waiting by the window
when he pulls into the drive
she rushes out to hold him
a strange new perfume blows
and the lightning flashes in her eyes
and he knows that she knows
and the lightning strikes
she runs back down the hallway
she reaches for the pistol
kept in the dresser drawer
tells the lady in the mirror
because tonight will be the last time
she'll wonder where he's been