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