Copyright © 2026 https://suno.com/@mich_bergde Mike Berg All rights reserved. She’s sitting in her worn-out armchair, from another time, just combing her hair. Two birthday cards lie on the table, the TV flickers, but she’s not really able. “Happy sixty-first,” they wrote her there, “Love you, grandma” — you know they care. The children gone their own ways, the house feels colder these days. There’s always something she can do, she plans her days the whole way through. And every evening she shuts down, and lets the TV fill the sound. It wasn’t always like today, just since the day he passed away. Since her husband said goodbye, she misses him — it shows in her eyes. She loved to dance with him so much, when pain cuts deep inside, she plays the song that brings his touch, and dances on her own tonight. When she hears those good old blues, she slips on her worn dancing shoes. She sways herself back to then, feels his love so close again. She had to leave the life she knew, start again with nothing to. Built a future from the ground, in a place that felt unbound. Years of working, years of hope, learning slowly how to cope. Raising children, holding tight, getting through each day and night. They were meant to have it better, that’s what held her all together. So she gave all that she had, through the good times and the bad. A whole lifetime side by side, through the storm and changing tide. Now there should be time for more, but he’s not here like before. She loved to dance with him so much, when pain cuts deep inside, she plays the song that brings his touch, and dances on her own tonight. When she hears those good old blues, she slips on her worn dancing shoes. She sways herself back to then, feels his love so close again. When she hears those good old blues, she forgets about the truth, and meets him there, just for a while.
