Morning prayers took the girl unawaresShe was late for class and
she knew itThe broadcaster had a voice that was soothingShe
couldn’t tell if it was a man or womanA patch of sun fell onto
her neckShe put her head on her arms on her deskThe lesson today
was Acts of ApostlesThe crazy hippies, they’re running scaredShe
shut her eyes and imagined the desertNo cars, no mobiles, just
sun and bread What would she look like standing by the well?More
like a women and less like a girl“Oh, if I could make sense of it
all!I wish that I could singI’d stay in a melodyI would float
along in my everlasting songWhat would I do to believe?”Later on
she plays Morning Has BrokenShe knows she’s badShe is slowing
everbody downThe choirmaster, usually a bastard, knows her
mother’s sickHe’ll be nice to herShe thinks that she shouldn’t
be there at allHer worries make everything else seem trivial“Oh,
if I could make sense of it all!I wish that I could singI’d stay
in a melodyI would float along in my everlasting songWhat would
I do to believe?”