Look at all the many colors, so exquisitely embroidered
Delicately and precisely sewn into a line
Organized in harmony, relationships so intricate
How’d I ever come across a tapestry so fine?

But what is this?
You’re burning holes in my stitching
The colours bleeding into one big mess
Did you guess, I’d let this fabric fray?

I’m meddling with murderers who still deserve to pay for their insanity
And though I’m one of them, I’m rarest of my kind, for many fell but only I arose
It’s been so long since I’ve seen the sun, who’s to say if the colours have faded?
Locked away so long, now jaded, left only to decay

I’m Mary
I feel like Mary in this dress
I’m Mary

And virgin journeys lie before us, patient and inscrutable
There’s clouds of visions, crowds of villains, mulling in withdrawal
And who would make the sacrifice, who but I is suitable?
Who but the sharp dressed woman with a dull chainsaw?

I mean no insult, but I’m fed up
It’s my fault, gave you the go ahead
I’ve lost my way, my hopeful days
Are just as dead as I am
And failure on my part to intercede has now ironically
Or cosmically, like poetry, come in between our destiny
And us but now there’s nothing left and nobody to meddle with
To try and make it better, it’s unsettling, to mother nothing

Mightn’t I have seen this coming on the horizon?
Storms of green and orange, this world of monsters taking form
But no, it is my place to simply fade away like wind
Like someone else that I could name that shouldn’t have been born

Of Mary. I feel like Mary in this dress
I’m Mary and I’ve nothing to confess
But hear me, 'cause no-one else is left

I’m Mary
I’m Mary
I’m Mary
I’m Mary