| Long about an hour before sunrise
|
| She drags his body down to the edge of the swollen river
|
| Wrapped in a red velvet curtain
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| Stolen from the movie theater where she works
|
| Quiet as a whisper, under the stanchions of a washed-out bridge she cuts him
|
| loose…
|
| And watches as the flood waters spin him around once, then carry him away
|
| Then she removes the golden ring upon her finger… and she throws it in
|
| And I wonder; |
| Baby why don’t you cry? |
| Baby why don’t you… Baby why don’t you
|
| cry?
|
| And I wonder; |
| Baby why don’t you cry? |
| Baby why don’t you… Baby why don’t you
|
| cry?
|
| Three days later in a bar in southern Mississippi she meets a man by the name
|
| of Charles Lee
|
| She introduces herself to him as «Lee Charles» «What a coincidence.» |
| he says…
|
| And one week later they are married
|
| He wakes up one night six months down the line to find her staring at him in
|
| the oddest way
|
| When he says, «Honey, what’s wrong?» |
| she says, «Oh nothing dear…
|
| except that tears are
|
| A stupid trick of God.»
|
| And by the time they find his body six weeks later… Well hell,
|
| she’s a thousand miles away
|
| And I wonder; |
| Baby why don’t you cry? |
| Baby why don’t you… Baby why don’t you
|
| cry?
|
| And I wonder; |
| Baby why don’t you cry? |
| Baby why don’t you… Baby why don’t you
|
| cry?
|
| She runs from devils. |
| She runs from angels
|
| She runs from the ghost of her father and five different uncles
|
| Blinded by their memory, seared by their pain, she’d like to kill 'em all…
|
| then kill 'em all again
|
| She don’t think much about what she’s done or the funny feelings that she feels
|
| No, she don’t
|
| To her it’s just a condition she picked up as a child… a little thing she
|
| calls
|
| «the wound that never heals», she calls it, «the wound that never heals»
|
| And I wonder; |
| Baby why don’t you cry? |
| Baby why don’t you…
|
| Baby why don’t you cry? |