Sophie from Church

Met a girl named Sophie at church, makeup on a black eye

She told me that her daddy was her hero

Then she asked me for a light

I said, "Sorry, I don't smoke"

She said, "Neither do I

But I've been having lucid dreams about that nicotine high"

She said she only talks to Jesus when it's dark outside

And that she's jealous of the heathens and their carefree lives

Oh, the saints dance with the sinners, Percocets, and polished shoes

They all move their weathered bodies to the same sad tune

And it goes twinkle, twinkle, little star

Do you ever wonder what you are?

And her tears fall down from her cheeks to her jeans, must be the nicotine

She's falling now from her feet to her knees, must be the nicotine

And they'll keep looking down like they're angels

Sent from Heaven back to the ground

Like they're blowing holy smoke from their cigarettes

They're all blacked out on a god-complex

Yeah, they're all blacked out on a god-complex

Sophie from church is nineteen, but she looks older

Drives her old Defender drunk until she's dead sober

Sunday, she touches her Bible, Monday, she touches herself

Water and oil don't mix, just like cocaine and a crucifix

Are they religious or are they just superstitious?

Broken bread and broken people

Whiskey prayers by the steeple

Oh, the saints dance with the sinners, Percocets, and polished shoes

They all move their weathered body to the same sad tune

Singing twinkle, twinkle, little star

I still wonder what you are

Now her tears fall down from her cheeks to her jeans, must be the nicotine

She's falling now from her feet to her knees, must be the nicotine

And they'll keep looking down like they're angels

Sent from Heaven back to the ground

Like they're blowing holy smoke from their cigarettes

They're all blacked out on a god-complex

Yeah, they're all blacked out on a god-complex

From the window, I watched her wrap her car around a tree

Then I realized

That Sophie was me

Oh, that Sophie was me