| Song | I Wear Your Dress |
| Artist | Anaïs Mitchell |
| Album | Hymns for the Exiled |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Mitchell | |
| This is just to tell you | |
| That I wear your dress sometimes | |
| The one you made with the gold brocade | |
| And the empire waist line | |
| You fit it to your figure | |
| When it looked just like my own | |
| That was Jersey in the fifties | |
| When the women stayed at home | |
| So you laid your paper pattern | |
| On the table in between | |
| The silver wearing napkins | |
| And the Harper's magazines | |
| From a slow suburban season | |
| That is nothing but a dream | |
| To your granddaughter | |
| This is just to tell you | |
| That I wear your dress sometimes | |
| Wear it down to the bar in town | |
| And I dance around all night | |
| Talking and joking | |
| Swearing and smoking | |
| Like any stranger in the crowd | |
| And nobody stares | |
| And nobody cares to tell me I'm not allowed | |
| I am allowed | |
| And my body by the letter of the law is still my own | |
| When I lay down in the darkness | |
| Unburdened and alone | |
| With the liberty you've given | |
| Like the clothing you've outgrown | |
| To your granddaughter | |
| To your granddaughter | |
| This is just to tell you | |
| That I wear your dress sometimes |
| zuo qu : Mitchell | |
| This is just to tell you | |
| That I wear your dress sometimes | |
| The one you made with the gold brocade | |
| And the empire waist line | |
| You fit it to your figure | |
| When it looked just like my own | |
| That was Jersey in the fifties | |
| When the women stayed at home | |
| So you laid your paper pattern | |
| On the table in between | |
| The silver wearing napkins | |
| And the Harper' s magazines | |
| From a slow suburban season | |
| That is nothing but a dream | |
| To your granddaughter | |
| This is just to tell you | |
| That I wear your dress sometimes | |
| Wear it down to the bar in town | |
| And I dance around all night | |
| Talking and joking | |
| Swearing and smoking | |
| Like any stranger in the crowd | |
| And nobody stares | |
| And nobody cares to tell me I' m not allowed | |
| I am allowed | |
| And my body by the letter of the law is still my own | |
| When I lay down in the darkness | |
| Unburdened and alone | |
| With the liberty you' ve given | |
| Like the clothing you' ve outgrown | |
| To your granddaughter | |
| To your granddaughter | |
| This is just to tell you | |
| That I wear your dress sometimes |
| zuò qǔ : Mitchell | |
| This is just to tell you | |
| That I wear your dress sometimes | |
| The one you made with the gold brocade | |
| And the empire waist line | |
| You fit it to your figure | |
| When it looked just like my own | |
| That was Jersey in the fifties | |
| When the women stayed at home | |
| So you laid your paper pattern | |
| On the table in between | |
| The silver wearing napkins | |
| And the Harper' s magazines | |
| From a slow suburban season | |
| That is nothing but a dream | |
| To your granddaughter | |
| This is just to tell you | |
| That I wear your dress sometimes | |
| Wear it down to the bar in town | |
| And I dance around all night | |
| Talking and joking | |
| Swearing and smoking | |
| Like any stranger in the crowd | |
| And nobody stares | |
| And nobody cares to tell me I' m not allowed | |
| I am allowed | |
| And my body by the letter of the law is still my own | |
| When I lay down in the darkness | |
| Unburdened and alone | |
| With the liberty you' ve given | |
| Like the clothing you' ve outgrown | |
| To your granddaughter | |
| To your granddaughter | |
| This is just to tell you | |
| That I wear your dress sometimes |