Shroud

I'm looking more like my mother I was so stagger'n waiting for you I was so sure in my barely bended knees That nobody cared for more It does no good to talk about anything It does no good to tell you I'm a wounded fiend It's up to things we discover It's in the way we try to cover with ground I'm not a flat-fingered dullard I was so sure and never right I was the tongue That's telling you that some Body else is trying And I've got no feelings about it at all In this old season of doubt and love And I've got no reasons to bury it here I could go backwards forever I could be boxed inside and living without Well don't blow my cover It's taken years to make a beautiful shroud I got no use in talking about anything And I can tell you it seems to be haunting me It does no good to talk about anything