Shroud

I'm looking more like my mother I was so staggering waiting for you I was so sure my belly bending knees, but 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 not the 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 a tongue that's telling you that somebody else is trying And I got no feeling about it at all In this old season of doubt and love And I got no reason to bury it here I could fall backwards forever I could be boxed inside And living without, well don't blow my cover It taken years to make a beautiful shroud I got no use in talking about anything And I could tell you it seems to be a haunting me It does no good to talk about anything Whooooa