Mary What looked like a mirage Made of glimmering silver in sunken eyes It was actually there in the palm of my hand But your existence is widely debated I'm godless and wrecked But I can't live by those steps The semantics are totally outdated And the love I have is never enough It bores me and leaves me frustrated I'm the last to make it home I'm the last to call if off I'm the last to make my bed Last to bring home the bread Last to make it home Mary You were online The sociopathic part of me Hit the "Like" In the hopes I'd coax you out of my derelict fantasy A bump in the road Turned in to the fissure I currently live in And though I am a soundboard to some With myself I am not so forgiving I'm the last to make it home I'm the last to call if off I'm the last to make my bed Last to bring home the bread Last to make it home I'm the last to make it home I'm the last to call if off I'm the last to make my bed Last to bring home the bread Last to make it home Mary What looked like a mirage Of glimmering silver in sunken eyes