I own 97 dresses
They help me hide what my mess is, don't they
It's lovely to put them on
Over heartache and alcoholism
New day, new way
Same old promises I make myself
I do what I'm supposed to
I'm someone to come home to, sometimes...
97, 97 dresses, 97
97, oh messes, yeah
Every stitch helps heal me
Every thread fulfills me
But I butcher them
Dresses with no hem, that's me
I'm complete.
Oh, that's me...
97, 97, 97
