if my mary were here

i would not be so stoned

if my mary were here

i don't think i'd have phoned you

if my mary were here

i'm a sad sack sir galahad

who's sword's around his knees

with a grail no longer holy

and a prayer that's saying - please

i would not be alone

if my mary were here

but she took off

and lord i'm lost. i don't think i'd be drinking

if my mary were here

and i know what i'd be thinking

if my mary were here

we'd be wrapping up a blanket

full of cheddar cheese and wine

packing up our camper with a rendezvous in mind

and we'd picnic out in lincoln park

if mary were here

but she split

so i got lit

i'm sorry that i called you

in the middle of the night

but you're the one who listens

when i need a little light

i know we haven't talked

since i dropped you in the dirt

i know you're not my lady now

but baby

how i hurt. (i could whistle up an old tune

that your memory might recall

rustle up some reminisce

'bout the good old days and all

if i were seeking someone else

i could find a way to hide

but i'm pleading like a pauper

babe

and it leaves no place for pride)

i would toss away my troubles

when my mary was here

but now i'm lost inside the rubble

cause my mary's not here

so could i come on over

with my heart in my hands

and place it on your pillow

like a rusty old tin can

i'm drunk and seeing double

and my mary's not here

once again

be the friend

that you've been

and take me in. please take me in.