Mary, Mary

Mary always waved at me as she rattled along on her shiny bicycle.

Mary, Mary, everyone loved Mary…

Quite contrary. Always, I’d hope that she’d fall flat on her face.

Would’ve loved to have that face…

Bicycles are shit. But I would’ve loved one.

Not everyone had doting dads to teach them how to ride a bike, you know…

Everyday she’d pass by, hair streaming behind her like a golden kite.

Come to think of it, I’ve never even flown a kite. But I would’ve loved to.

Was it me? Did I run her over?

Nope.

Would’ve loved to, though.