She lived on the curve in the road
In an old tar paper shack.
On the south side of the town
On the wrong side of the tracks.
Sometimes on the way into town
We'd say, "Mama can we stop and give her a ride?"
Sometimes we did
But her hands flew from her side.
Wild eyed
Crazy Mary.
Down the long dirt road
Past the Parson's place.
That old blue car
We used to race.
Little country store with a sign tacked to the side.
Said 'NO L-O-I-T-E-R-I-N-G ALLOWED.'
Underneath that sign always congregated quite a crowd.
Take a bottle drink it down. Pass it around.
Take a bottle drink it down. Drink it... Pass it around. Pass it a...
A-take a bottle drink it down. Pass it... Pass it a... Pass it around.
One night thunder cracked.
Mercy backed outside my windowsill.
Dreamed I was flying
High above the trees, over the hills.
Looked down into the house of Mary.
Terrible thoughts, newspaper covered walls.
And Mary rising up above it all.
Oh... Oh... Oh...
Next morning on the way into town
Saw some skid marks and followed them around.
Over the curve,
Through the fields,
Into the house of Mary.
That what you fear the most could meet you halfway.
Take a bottle drink it down. Pass it around.
Take a bottle drink it down. Pass it... Pass it around. Pass it a...
Take a bottle drink it down. Pass it... Pass it a... Pass it around.
Oh, pass it a... Pass it arround. Pass it a... Pass it a... Pass it a...
Oh yeah.
