the girl with the weight of the world in her hands

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. we're busy with our happiness

busy with our plans

i wonder if alone she wants it taken from her hands

but if things didn't get any 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