Seashells and Rice

Little Ann touches down unsure of what's around
She spent days upon that plane that she boarded by mistake
She passes by the baggage claim
Leaves it for another shameless thief to take aim
Lock on and steal and invade her dreams
She finds that happy ever after might not last forever after all

Precious Ann settles down, settling for what’s around
She's spent so long living alone, no life's light in left unshown
She says, “Excuse the mess that’s left, perhaps it's best to dim the lights
And expect this all to disappear or somehow never exist”
She thinks that maybe she's not ready, maybe there's no afterwards after all

And Ann follows the steeple and finds a line of people
Holding rice and speaking nice with smiles that they don't mean
She's gliding down the aisle, toward an alter or funeral pyre
She finds it strange how irony does not escape
She finds no epilogue, there might not be an afterword after all

And she rose up from the table
Like the unstable first steps from the cradle
And Ann froze as the stepped on a seashell tearing off her toenail
Stumbled as she fell
Leaving herself all exposed

She's waiting for another verse, something different from the first
But it's worse to repeat an ending than to just go on pretending
That the breeze may not be sweeter or the grass any greener after all