tell me who's to blame for this ink spot, question mark,

blood-stained sleeves in the parking lot

i've had it since i was twelve and i wear it like hell

wash it when it gets worn, dirty, tattered, torn

fell in love with me and wears me with pride

we bathe in ultra tide when i start to feel guilty

and everyone's jealous cause they wish they had it

i'm half a man without it

i'm the king of style

and i'll keep on wearing my marathon shirt

and i'll wear it everyday til it hurts

and i got no lady over her

confidence-a-plenty in my marathon shirt

once loaned her to a friend for a party and i worried all

night like a mother does

and when she returned all wrinkled and helpless, she smelled

of cheap cigarettes and other drugs

i'd wear her in any season

i'd wear her for any reason

the only promise in my life's that shirt of mine

and day after day, as her colors fade away, i'll remember

what she felt like the first time

now i've come to lay you down

you can soak into the sound and i'm so elated

she can't be recreated and the water's turning brown

my baby she's no hand-me-down