Mary’s Dress

I came here with all that was given to me -
A mind modeled on industry
And a soul that I’ve done everything to need
In attempt to reach, the tongue describes
How your shadow grows long in the desert sun
Or the wheel against the rail
The city night, the whiteness of the whale

I wished I could have found the guts
To say what I really mean
My mind chewed them up like a dirty old machine

Mary died Sunday, twelve o’clock noon
The widowеd man, the hollow tomb
I held my poise and hеld the thought
In that single-file procession line

I showed my face and my respects
I hope I didn’t fail to impress
The fearful child, the white baptism dress

I wish I could have found the guts to say
What I really mean
My mind chewed them up like a dirty old machine

I spent hours and hours trying to find within
That suspended floral dress
A reason to continue nonetheless

Well, I wished I could have found the guts to say
What I really mean
My mind chewed them up like a dirty old machine

White-tiled kitchen, sunlight’s breaking through
I’m waiting for the hands to meet so I can ditch the memory
Tell me, what am I going to do
With all these things I gave to you

And all this fucking furniture?