[Whispered, distant female vocal, sparse piano, faint wind and church bells] Mama said white was for the wedding, Black was for the dead. But nobody told me what to wear When my own blood turned red. [Verse 1 - Intimate storytelling, fingerpicked acoustic guitar] The church was dressed in ribbons, The June bugs filled the air, I found him with my sister With his fingers in her hair. My wedding gown was waiting, My bouquet upon the stair, And all the pretty promises Were dying everywhere. She wore my mother’s locket, He wore the ring I’d bought, They swore it was a moment, Said it never meant a lot. But hatred’s like a matchstick In a house that’s built of pine, And something broke inside me At a quarter after nine. [Pre-Chorus - Low cello enters, tension building] Thunder rolled across the fields, The screen door slammed that night. Three shadows crossed the hallway, But just one saw the light. [Chorus - Full dark country instrumentation, aching lead vocal, haunting backing harmonies] Now I wear the mourning dress, Black lace against my skin, A widow to a wedding That never could begin. They laid one body in the ground, They said the Lord knows best, And every year I dress in black Inside the mourning dress. [Verse 2 - Steady pulse, ominous fiddle and pedal steel] They found him by the river When the morning mist was thin, My sister told the sheriff She’d last seen him at ten. They questioned me at breakfast, I cried into my tea, Said I’d been in my bedroom With the Bible on my knee. The preacher called me broken, The neighbours called me brave, They brought me casseroles and lilies And watched me by his grave. My sister left by Sunday For a town across the line, And Mama pinned my wedding veil Beside the dress of mine. [Pre-Chorus - Percussion drops away, whispered doubles] Thunder rolled across the fields, The truth was buried deep. Some secrets aren’t for keeping, They’re the ones that never sleep. [Chorus - Bigger drums, layered female harmonies] Now I wear the mourning dress, Black lace against my skin, A widow to a wedding That never could begin. They laid one body in the ground, They said the Lord knows best, And every year I dress in black Inside the mourning dress. [Bridge - Almost spoken, piano and heartbeat-like kick drum] Twenty years of Sundays, Twenty years of rain, Twenty years of hearing That old screen door again. My sister sent a letter, Said she’d come home in spring, She’d tell me what she’d witnessed, She’d tell me everything. But spring came with the dogwoods, And the letter stayed unread. I laid it by the Bible And slept beside my bed. Some ghosts are made of memories, Some wear a living face. Some people run from judgment, Some just never leave the place. [Final Verse - Music strips back, chilling vocal revelation] There’s a portrait in the hallway Of two girls dressed in white, One bride who never made it, One sister dressed in night. They say she fled that county, They say she changed her name, But I still hear her footsteps When the church bells sound the same. I never told the sheriff What happened by the stair. I never said which sister Put the dead man’s body there. And when they ask me why I wear This black dress every spring, I smile and touch the locket That was never meant for me. [Final Chorus - Explosive cinematic climax, gospel choir harmonies, fiddle and drums] I wear the mourning dress, Black lace against my skin, A widow to a wedding That never could begin. They laid one body in the ground, But two hearts failed that night, And one of us was buried While the other stayed alive. I wear the mourning dress, Let the church bells testify, One sister sleeps beneath the earth, One sister learned to lie. They say the dead can’t hurt you, They say the truth brings rest, But the devil knows my measurements And tailored me this dress. [Outro - Solo piano, distant church bells, final whispered vocal] Mama said white was for the wedding, Black was for the dead. She never said what colour You should wear when it’s your sister instead. [End - Sudden silence]
