She laughs when she thinks that her whole life could fit in her car.
And she could drive it wherever she wanted.
But she knows that she will never get that far.
This suffering's hers,
and she will flaunt it right in their face
in that place where they condemn her soul
with their smiles that are so curt.

You know she always smiles in the mirror that way.
It's there to remind her of the hurt.
And her mind is a mixture of the sacred and profane.
And sometimes she wonders if the two are not the same. And inside that babylon that she's building,
like she can't stop,
she'll go on climbing
even though she knows Heaven's not at the top.

And she'll let her mind wander
for what seems like forty years,
and never find the Promised land,
even though it's in her hands
She takes everything she hears to her heart
and gives it a room.
And most times it sends her reeling.
Her heart is pregnant with the graves of stillborn love.
'Cause she imbues every word with meaning.

Now she'll search for her Messiah in the comfort of her bed.
To try to learn to take all the blame.
You know she tried to look up his number
when he left her that time before,
but God didn't tell her his last name.