| Every time I think that I’m the only one who’s lonely |
| Someone calls on me |
| And every now and then I spend my time in rhyme and verse |
| And curse those faults in me |
| And then along comes Mary |
| And does she want to give me kicks, and be my steady chick |
| And give me pick of memories |
| Or maybe rather gather tales of all the fails and tribulations |
| No one ever sees |
| When we met I was sure out to lunch |
| Now my empty cup tastes as sweet as the punch |
| When vague desire is the fire in the eyes of chicks |
| Whose sickness is the games they play |
| And when the masquerade is played and neighbor folks make jokes |
| As who is most to blame today |
| And then along comes Mary |
| And does she want to set them free, and let them see reality |
| From where she got her name |
| And will they struggle much when told that such a tender touch as hers |
| Will make them not the same |
| When we met I was sure out to lunch |
| Now my empty cup tastes as sweet as the punch |
| And when the morning of the warning’s passed, the gassed |
| And flaccid kids are flung across the stars |