I have stood here in this garden
Where you placed me in the spring
I have held my arms gracefully from my side

dog dish and an Afro pick
You laid beside me as a trick [bad word] that comes through the night

In fields of green, in field of straw
There ain't no telling what we saw
As we stand together on this hill

I used to be a part of a [bad word] scheme
As furniture with glass upon my head
You paint me white, you clean me off
You say my name each time you cough
It's a pattern as old as it gets

I'll stay right here till you get back
You're concrete white, I'm plastic black
I'm the statue of the Virgin Mary

I am free from all decisions
I am free from all despair
You can see there's not a wrinkle on my face

Looks pretty good from where I stand
No crying fields, no sins of man
All for the love of Raymond
All for the love of Raymond