She hides in an attic concealed on a shelf Behind volumes of literature based on herself And runs across the pages like some tiny elf Knowing that it's hard to find Stuff way back in her mind, Winds up spending all of her time Trying to memorize every line
Sweet Lorraine, ah, sweet Lorraine. Sweet lady of death wants me to die So she can come sit by my bedside and sigh And wipe away the tears from all my friends eyes Then softly she will explain Just exactly who was to blame For causing me to go insane And finally blow out my brain, Sweet Lorraine, ah, sweet Lorraine.
Well you know that it's a shame and a pity You were raised up in the city And you never learned nothing 'bout country ways, Ah, 'bout country ways.
The joy of life she dresses in black With celestial secrets engraved in her back And her face keeps flashing that she's got the knack, But you know when you look into her eyes All she's learned she's had to memorize And the only way you'll ever get her high Is to let her do her thing and then watch you die, Sweet Lorraine, ah, sweet Lorraine.
Now she's the one who gives us all those magical things And reads us stories out of the I Ching, Then she passes out a whole new basket of rings That when you put on your hand Makes you one of the Angel Band And gives you the power to be a man, But what it does for her you never quite understand Sweet Lorraine, ah, sweet Lorraine.
Well you know that it's a shame and a pity You were raised up in the city And you never learned nothing 'bout country ways, Oh 'bout country ways, oh 'bout country ways, Yeah, about country ways, oh, country ways