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Every time I think that |
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I'm the only one who's lonely |
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Someone calls on me |
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And every now and then |
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I spend my time at rhyme and verse |
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And curse those faults in me |
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And then along comes Mary |
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And does she want to give me kicks and be my steady chick |
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And give me pick of memories |
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Or maybe rather gather tales from all the fails and tribulations |
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No one ever sees |
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When we met I was sure out to lunch |
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Now my empty cup tastes as sweet as the punch |
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When vague desire is the fire |
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In the eyes of chicks whose sickness |
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Is the games they play |
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And when the masquerade is played |
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The neighbor folks make jokes |
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At who is most to blame today |
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And then along comes Mary |
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And does she want to set them free and |
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Let them see reality |
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From where she got her name |
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And will they struggle much |
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when told that such a tender touch of hers |
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Will make them not the same |
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When we met I was sure out to lunch |
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Now my empty cup tastes as sweet as the punch |
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And when the morning of the warning's passed |
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The gassed and flaccid kids |
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Are flung across the stars |
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The psychodramas and the traumas gone |
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The songs have all been sung |
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And hung upon the scars |
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And then along comes Mary |
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And does she want to see the stains, |
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The dead remains of all the pain |
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She left the night before |
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Or will their waking eyes reflect the lies |
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And make them realize |
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Their urgent cry for sight no more |
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When we met I was sure out to lunch |
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Now my empty cup tastes as sweet as the punch |
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Sweet as the punch |
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Sweet as the punch |
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Sweet as the punch |
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Sweet as the punch |
