|
She made a good go for a weeping willow |
|
Closed all the windows and made herself a pillow |
|
As her limbs clung to the ground |
|
She lay her head down |
|
Her hair was dirty in February |
|
She was thirty in 1963 |
|
A thousand seconds more |
|
On the oven door |
|
She took a long deep breath |
|
While her babies slept |
|
Made a good go for a weeping willow |
|
With a cold, fixed stare |
|
She's cursed with insight |
|
And you can't repair |
|
She's broken inside |
|
She made a good go for a weeping willow |
|
She closed the windows and made herself a pillow |
|
And took a long deep breath |
|
While her babies slept |
|
And the Cadillac creeps |
|
In your body bag |
|
And her blacks crackle and drag |
|
Blacks crackle and drag |
|
Blacks crackle and drag |
|
Blacks crackle and drag |
|
Blacks crackle and drag |
|
Blacks crackle and drag |
|
Blacks crackle and drag |
