| She hides in an attic concealed on a shelf
|
| Behind volumes of literature based on herself
|
| And runs across the pages like some tiny elf
|
| Knowing that it’s hard to find
|
| Stuff way back in her mind
|
| Winds up spending all of her time
|
| Trying to memorize every line
|
| Sweet Lorraine
|
| Ah, sweet Lorraine
|
| Sweet lady of death wants me to die
|
| So she can come sit by my bedside and sigh
|
| And wipe away tears from all my friends' eyes
|
| Then softly, she will explain
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| Just exactly who’s to blame
|
| For causing me to go insane
|
| And finally blow out my brain
|
| Sweet Lorraine
|
| Mmm, sweet Lorraine
|
| Well, you know that it’s a shame and a pity
|
| You were raised up in the city
|
| And you never
|
| Learned nothing 'bout country ways
|
| Ah, country ways
|
| The joy of life, she dresses in black
|
| With celestial secrets engraved on her back
|
| And her face keeps flushing, but she’s got the knack
|
| But you know when you look into her eyes
|
| All she’s learned, she’s had to memorize
|
| And the only way you’ll ever get her high
|
| Is to let her do her thing, and then watch you die
|
| Sweet Lorraine
|
| Ah, sweet Lorraine
|
| Now, she’s the one who gives us all those magical things
|
| And reads us stories out of the I Ching
|
| And she passes out a whole new basket of rings
|
| That, when you put on your hand
|
| Makes you one of the angel band
|
| And gives you the power to be a man
|
| But what it does for her, you never quite understand
|
| Sweet Lorraine
|
| Ah, sweet Lorraine
|
| Well, you know
|
| That it’s a shame and a pity
|
| You were raised
|
| Up in the city
|
| And you never
|
| Learned nothing 'bout country ways
|
| Oh, country ways
|
| Oh, 'bout country ways
|
| Yeah, country ways
|
| Oh, country ways |