She lived on the curve in the road
In an old tar paper shack.
On the south side of the town
On the wrong side of the tracks.
Sometimes on the way into town
We'd say, "Mama can we stop and give her a ride?"
Sometimes we did
But her hands flew from her side.
Wild eyed
Crazy Mary.

Down the long dirt road
Past the Parson's place.
That old blue car
We used to race.

Come you masters of war, you that build all the guns
You that build the death place, you that build all the guns
You that hide behind walls, you that hide behind desks
I just want you to know, I can see through your masks

You that never done nothing, but to build and destroy
You play with my world, like it's your little toy
You put a gun in my hand, then you hide from my eyes