Bones

She sits in the sunlight each morning

And waits for her memory to fade

If she tells you she's got a messiah

It's one that she's already made

She's no longer taking shortcuts

In her village of Rome

And nobody's home

By the time that the summer is over

She's nowhere to be seen

She smiles and looks slightly frightened

As you walk past she wants to cry

The daffodils bloom in the garden

Her head is buttered and fried

On a good day the great was seen clearly

On a bad she's hardly aware

And waits for the reaper to bear

Her doormat is left propped up

Since Wednesday when they came to clean

Her apartment has been re-vacated

Perhaps she is now in a home

Or perhaps she is just bone

Or perhaps she is just bone

Or perhaps she is just bone

Just bone

Just bone

Just bone

Just bone