Shroud

I'm looking more like my mother

I was so stagger'n waiting for you

I was so sure in my barely bended knees

That nobody cared for more

It does no good to talk about anything

It does no good to tell you I'm a wounded fiend

It's up to things we discover

It's in the way we try to cover with ground

I'm not a flat-fingered dullard

I was so sure and never right

I was the tongue

That's telling you that some

Body else is trying

And I've got no feelings about it at all

In this old season of doubt and love

And I've got no reasons to bury it here

I could go backwards forever

I could be boxed inside and living without

Well don't blow my cover

It's taken years to make a beautiful shroud

I got no use in talking about anything

And I can tell you it seems to be haunting me

It does no good to talk about anything