She Put up with What She Put Down

Reading the draft, wasn't sure where to laugh

The language wasn't very refined

Skipping ahead, she wasn't sure where it lead

The patterns were too hard to find

Traffic and lights

Connecting flights

She read it through

The church rang the bell, heard it from her hotel

She stood up to open the blinds

A rolled magazine became part of her scene

She put up with what she put down

Laying in bed, now off the top of her head

Knowing she could take 'em to town

Traffic and lights

Setting her sights

She always knew

Some aim to be great, but they just illustrate

That history's often unkind

Writing her thoughts as she stares out to the highway

Will anyone read or review?

Cool ocean air as she pulls into the driveway

The ceiling is cracked, but she's leaning out the window

Out of the window

Out of the window

Out of the window

Traffic and lights

Connecting flights

She thought it through

Make no mistake, she'll never let them eat cake

'Cause history's often unkind

Still, the church rang the bell, echoed through the hotel

The key is often harder to find