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cry to me from wooden benches, purses close and sew your pretty eyes shut it's your funeral from 1 to 3 they never knew you were suicidal you tried a hundred dresses on but you're not feeling all that bridal dead love, i never meant to lay you out dead love, what's hunting you down has turned me around languidly beside me keeping granite hands on polished granite shoulders it's your funeral from 1 to 3 they never knew you were still deciding some traded you for sympathy some were never worth inviting dead love, i never meant to lay you out dead love, what's hunting you down has turned me around long before you love was at my door the letter was dated but can't resurrect what you mean one down, one for the team