Lace

One day, when I'm dead and gone,

they'll find the clothes I had on.

They'll take them out -

one by one
and 

wonder

wonder

what went on.

"It can't be hers", they'll say'

out loud.

"She never stood out in a crowd".

"She never wore black, she

never wore lace - 

with her

they would be out of place".

They won't understand the change I had,

from 

very good

to very bad.

They'll put them back - one by one

and

wonder

wonder

what went on.

"It can't be hers" - they'll say out loud,

"She never stood out in a crowd".