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