Mrs. Carver of West Virginia
Sole survivor of the quest to end you
Left behind her a letter to find
Said I'm not coming to California
And I took the car so I should probably warn you
I left to find her and weather the tide
She says blame it on the rolling dice
But when you touched me I was cold as ice
Blame it on the country song
The one that made you think we don't belong
And take another over-under for the souls we've wronged
Mrs. Carver of West Virginia
Second daughter of a prominent fixture
Pride of Harvard, blight of the bay
Son of silver with a touch for fiction
Rushed to print and now in the fifth edition
Trying harder, but can't write them the same
He says blame it on the whiskey train
The pain of all the bills we paid
Blame it on the pressure applied
And try to get some rest tonight
Or take a double to spare the trouble of getting it right
Mrs. Carver of West Virginia
Who broke your heart and took the best within you
Left behind her a letter to find
Said I could paint you a perfect picture
Of my right to name you with the worst offenders,
But the memory of you is getting better with time
Like when we drove across the borderline
And said we'd play a different role tonight
For all the losers when the game let out
That say they counted on it raining out
And tell the soldier to come on over and let it all out
