she won't recover from her losses

she's not chosen this path

but she watches who it crosses

maybe move to the right

maybe move to the left

so we can all see her pain she wears

like a banner on her chest

and we all say it's sad

and we think it's a shame

and she's called to our attention

but we do not call her name

the girl with the weight

of the world in her hands

cause we're busy with our happiness

and busy with our plans

i wonder if alone she wants it

taken from her hands

but if things didn't keep getting harder

she might miss her sacred chance

to go a consecrated martyr

the girl with the weight

of the world in her hands

i wonder which saint

that lives inside a bead

will grant her consolation

when she counts upon her need

it makes us all angry

though we feign to care

but who will be the scale

to weigh the cross she has to bear

the girl with the weight

of the world in her hands

is the glass half-full or empty

i ask her as i fill it

she said it doesn't really matter

pretty soon you're bound to spill it

with the half logic language

of the sermon she delivers

and the way she smiles so knowingly

at me gives me the shivers

i pull the blanket higher

when i'm finally safe at home

and she'll take a hundred with her

but she always sleeps alone

the girl with the weight

of the world in her hands

i wonder which saint

that lives inside a bead

will grant her consolation

when she counts upon her need

it makes us all angry

though we feign to care

but who will be the scale

to weigh the cross she has to bear

the girl with the weight

of the world in her hands