....AND THEN ALONG COMES MARY....

Mary, huh?

So, I was sitting here last week watching "Pretty in Pink" which is John Hughes at his typical(poor girl, rich boy; heartbreak, bullying, cool cars and clothes, 80s hair and kiss/make up; you babies of the 80s know whatta mean)....and it's the part where Iona put on her 1960s prom dress and put her hair up in a big ole' beehive and is dancing to the song "Cherish" with Molly Ringwald. I was thinking of all the songs by the Association(as...I have no life and that's just what I do; I love the dusties, git over it) and just wondered what other tunes they had so there was "Windy," "Never My Love," and of course: this song:



"Along Comes Mary"


Turns out, this song is about marijuana. The producers mentioned how some of the band members loved to party, and one of the guitar players died from a heroin OD in 1972.


Here are the lyrics....



Every time I think that I'm the only one who's lonely

Someone calls on me

And every now and then I spend my time in rhyme and verse

And curse those faults in me

And then along comes Mary

And does she want to give me kicks , and be my steady chick

And give me pick of memories

Or maybe rather gather tales of all the fails and tribulations

No one ever sees

When we met I was sure out to lunch

Now my empty cup tastes as sweet as the punch

When vague desire is the fire in the eyes of chicks

Whose sickness is the games they play

And when the masquerade is played and neighbor folks make jokes

As who is most to blame today

And then along comes Mary

And does she want to set them free, and let them see reality

From where she got her name

And will they struggle much when told that such a tender touch as hers

Will make them not the same

When we met I was sure out to lunch

Now my empty cup tastes as sweet as the punch

And when the morning of the warning's passed, the gassed

And flaccid kids are flung across the stars

The psychodramas and the traumas gone

The songs are left unsung and hung upon the scars

And then along comes Mary

And does she want to see the stains, the dead remains of all the pains

She left the night before

Or will their waking eyes reflect the lies, and make them

Realize their urgent cry for sight no more

When we met I was sure out to lunch

Now my empty cup tastes as sweet as the punch



What say you?