She is running...

She is running a hundred miles an hour in the wrong direction.
She is trying but the canyon's ever widening in the depths of her cold heart.
So she sets out on another misadventure just to find she's another two years older and she's three more steps behind. Does anybody hear her? Can anybody see?
Or does anybody even know she's going down today
under the shadow of our steeple with all the lost and lonely people searching for the hope that's tucked away in you and me? Does anybody hear her? Can anybody see?
She is yearning for shelter and affection that she never found at home.
She is searching for a hero to ride in and save the day
and in walks her prince charming and he knows just what to say, momentary lapse of reason
and she gives herself away. If judgment looms under every steeple, if lofty glances from lofty people, can't see past her scarlet letter and we've never even met her. Does anybody hear her? Does anybody see?
Or does anybody even know she's going down today under the shadow of our steeple with all the lost and lonely people searching for the hope that's tucked away in you and me?

He is running a hundred miles an hour in the wrong direction...