I need to start this off by letting you know that this isn't my story to tell
And from this point on the words I speak are from the mouth of somebody else
It was pineapple of the Friday nights spent in the living room in

Of the house I grew up in
But I could tell with every call on my mother's phone
That something was different

And then she told me what happened

They had to break into

The door through her living room
'Cause she lived alone
When she had the stroke


And she had been on the hardwood floor for days
Before anybody got through the door and

She had just turned 75
Which is still too young to have to fight for life
And before long before the stroke

There was no sign
That this was the way that it would go
Although her body was aging

Her heart was younger than most of the family's
That's why this was such a surprise
But we know who wins the fight between body and mind


I thought "this can't be possible"
On the way to the hospital

'Cause if I had known that she had a stroke
Maybe I could've called and stopped it all
I could've come by and said hello

Instead I had no clue
Of the things she was going through
And as I sat at home

She tried to grab the phone

But her body couldn't handle the way

She picked herself up
But then her legs were shaking
She pulled the phone cord

Clean out of the wall

As I sat beside the hospital bed

And I wondered all the things
That went through your head
Cold and alone

With the screen door open
And no salvation in sight


And for four days
You fought through the night
As everybody carried on

With their lives

The neighbours were outside

And the mailman came to the door
But with valient attempts to create noise
You were failed by your weak voice


And where was I
As the sun rose and sun set

If there ever was a time
That you needed God
It was then

And I can't
Begin to imagine
The hopelessness


Turn on the light
Turn on the light

Don't give up the fight
Give up the fight


Turn on the light
Turn on the light
This can't be right

This can't be right