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 the pain she wears like a banner on her chest
We all say it's sad and we think it's a shame
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, we're 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 matyr
The girl with the weight of the world in her hands
I wonder which saint that lives inside a bead
Will grant her consolation as she counts upon her knees
It makes us all angry, though we fail 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-hearted language of the sermon she delivers
The way she smiles so knowingly, it near 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 as she counts upon her knees
It makes us all angry, though we fail 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
