| Dried-up corn
|
| all around your well
|
| fences breaking down
|
| One big mill
|
| so still
|
| don’t it look just like a crown
|
| Mary Marie
|
| Can’t they see they can’t run your ship aground
|
| Mary Marie
|
| Can’t they see they can’t borrow what you found
|
| Empty boxes
|
| piled up one in another
|
| gleaming in the wind
|
| One huge fountain
|
| shut down completely
|
| and then the glare begins
|
| Mary Marie
|
| what a waste all the hands that just won’t try
|
| Mary Marie
|
| if they taste their own bitterness they’ll fry
|
| Last night so foggy
|
| Today the rain
|
| I saw the hand come down on the flame
|
| But the light goes on I still hear your voice
|
| and how the burning remains
|
| Mary Marie
|
| taking leave turning mirrors to the wall.
|
| Mary Marie. |