She hides in an attic concealed on a shelf

Behind volumes of literature based on herself

And runs across the pages like some tiny elf

Knowing that it's hard to find

Stuff way back in her mind,

Winds up spending all of her time

Trying to memorize every line



Sweet Lorraine, ah, sweet Lorraine.

Sweet lady of death wants me to die

So she can come sit by my bedside and sigh

And wipe away the tears from all my friends eyes

Then softly she will explain

Just exactly who was to blame

For causing me to go insane

And finally blow out my brain,

Sweet Lorraine, ah, sweet Lorraine.



Well you know that it's a shame and a pity

You were raised up in the city

And you never learned nothing 'bout country ways,

Ah, 'bout country ways.



The joy of life she dresses in black

With celestial secrets engraved in her back

And her face keeps flashing that she's got the knack,

But you know when you look into her eyes

All she's learned she's had to memorize

And the only way you'll ever get her high

Is to let her do her thing and then watch you die,

Sweet Lorraine, ah, sweet Lorraine.



Now she's the one who gives us all those magical things

And reads us stories out of the I Ching,

Then she passes out a whole new basket of rings

That when you put on your hand

Makes you one of the Angel Band

And gives you the power to be a man,

But what it does for her you never quite understand

Sweet Lorraine, ah, sweet Lorraine.



Well you know that it's a shame and a pity

You were raised up in the city

And you never learned nothing 'bout country ways,

Oh 'bout country ways, oh 'bout country ways,

Yeah, about country ways, oh, country ways