Sister Failure on New Year's Eve

I'm sick. I don't know why. I haven't seen
A doctor -- just gulp pills of no clear pow'r.
My father treats his colds with Scotch and sleep,
But alcohol just makes my stomach sour.

My cell phone doesn't work. I don't know why.
It says to "Check the SIM card" -- but not how.
I guess the store could fix it; haven't tried.
In fact I don't know where that store is now.

My girlfriend writes me letters filled with news,
And all her thoughts: on God, ... marriage, ... affairs,
I've nothing to say back; it's like at work,
Except at work there's no-one really cares.

"Oh, Sister Failure, say a word to me!"
I'm not sure, but I think she whispered "Peace."