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Weep, Bride, Weep,
Now you girlhood is over, and your
womanhood lies stretched out before you,
Weep, Bride, Weep,
Like a dull, grey matronly corpse on
the corner's slab.
Weep, Bride, Weep,
Nothing but the horrifying agony of childbirth
for you to look forward to now,
Weep, Bride, Weep,
While the melodies of yesterday's parties
echo sadly in the past.
Weep, Bride, Weep,
Now I'm sorry but it's time for me to talk
about the subject of your husband:
Weep, Bride, Weep,
I guess you think he's pretty cute and
pretty smart, and maybe even pretty deep.
Well Weep, Bride, Weep,
'Cause he's a closeted Marxist, who thinks that
marriage is state prostitution,
Weep, Bride, Weep,
So sometimes you'll have to fuck him just
to get him to shut up and go to sleep.
Weep, Bride, Weep,
But not too hard -we can't have you collapsing
out of sheer desolation,
Weep, Bride, Weep,
We need you functionally depressive, so you'll
still get up and drive the kids to class.
Weep, Bride, Weep,
At least your father's buying all of the
liquid consolation,
And the musicians
Will enjoy the bridesmaids
(in the ass).
Weep, Bride, Weep.
(Geoff Berner)
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