She put on her best dress
To cover her loneliness.
To cover the seeping scar,
That covers her broken heart.
She wears it like a black veil.
Like a card player’s only tell.
She cherishes this bit of grace,
In that she can’t remember his face
Or the feel of his touch,
Or why she loved him so much,
Or making love in the rain
All she has left of him is her pain.
And she’ll take care of all that remains
Before his memory drives her insane.
So with her stocking rolled way down low
Way lower than a good girl’s should go
And a glass of whiskey in her hand
Her eye sight locked upon a man
She’ll uncover her loneliness
By removing that lovely dress,
Her scar, broken heart, black veil and more
Leaving it all in a pile upon the floor.