(Verlaine)
|
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.
|
|
-----------------
|
Mary Marie
|
| Tom Verlaine |
