Mary's driving home again,
She's crying again.
Johnny left her for another girl.


She's embarrassed by her lonleyness
And haunted by her shame.

And everyones reacting just the same,
As she feared they would.


Are we more concerned with the fruit of another,
Never noticing our own barren branches?
And are we more consumed with casting stones at eachother?

While ignoring the lovers in our bed,
Our own beds, In our heads.


Mary's driving home again, turns on the radio.
Cause no ones writing songs about divorce.
She could use a verse or two,

Anything that brings just a few moments of life
In the middle of this darkness


Are we more concerned with the fruit of another,
Never noticing our own barren branches?
And are we more consumed with casting stones at eachother?

While ignoring the lovers in our bed,
Our own beds, In our heads.


God hears her cries
As her tears fall rivaling the grains of sand
We have His heart

What is keeping us from being His hands?

Mary's driving home again, turns off the radio

Cause no one's writing songs about divorce; yet.