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Every time I think that 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 I spend my time in 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 of 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 in the eyes of chicks |
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Whose sickness is the games they play |
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And when the masquerade is played and neighbor folks make jokes |
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As 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 let them see reality |
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From where she got her name |
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And will they struggle much when told that such a tender touch as 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, the gassed |
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And flaccid kids are flung across the stars |
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The psychodramas and the traumas gone |
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The songs are left unsung 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, the dead remains of all the pains |
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She left the night before |
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Or will their waking eyes reflect the lies, and make them |
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Realize 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 |
