| We were both standing
|
| In your mother’s living room
|
| Sweating up a storm in that
|
| Terrible month of June
|
| And the sweat rolled down your cheek
|
| And into your mouth
|
| I knew this must’ve been a dream
|
| 'cos your mother would never let me in her house
|
| You are the most beautiful widow
|
| You are the most beautiful widow
|
| You are the most beautiful widow in town
|
| Many years later
|
| The glassy month of December
|
| I stood with my hands in my pockets
|
| Trying to avoid
|
| A shiny wedding portrait
|
| Hanging on that old woman’s wall
|
| 'cos I knew you’d be wearing a smile
|
| That’d be too painful to look upon
|
| You are the most beautiful widow
|
| I bet you are the most beautiful widow
|
| I bet you are the most beautiful widow in town |