Dashboard Mary

The two left at nighttime
They had fourteen hours to kill
Went with little in his car
Both acting on the thrill

She was twenty-seven
The man was older still
Taught there at his college
Spoke on Wordsworth's daffodils

The man began hardly talking when
He had quietened from the passions of gin
And he was worried about his driving
And where they'd stay in Michigan

She thought that he was regretting
'Cause his hands on the wheel were blue
If her boy at home had woken
And if the dashboard Mary knew

Pulled into a cafe, when they had
Four more hours to go
Pushed their breakfast round their plates
Both faking the afterglow

The waitresses eyes were prying
So she covered up her purse
And the picture
Gone gone
Gone gone

Oh I'm not coming home
Oh God, I'm not saying
I'm not coming home
I'm not coming home
I'm not coming home