Writers: Doug Supernaw, Lonnie Atkinson Cold tile floors, a single bed The TV is her only company Out he door she sticks her head Thought she heard her family But it's not Christmas or Mother's Day And all her old friends have pa**ed away She's living in a garden Where only heartache grows cause what was a blooming flower Is now a wilting rose Days go by, she's hanging on Staring at the grand kids on the wall She stars to cry 'cause Sunday's gone I guess they just forgot to call And all that keeps her from giving up The hope she'll look outside and walking up Is a child that must meet Grandma before the day she goes 'cause what was a blooming flower Is now a wilting rose She's living in a garden where everybody knows That we'll soon be laying flowers upon our wilting rose