There's this girl, and she sits at a computer.
She stares out the window a lot while twirling her hair.
She's always thinking and wishing and hoping and dreaming and scheming.
Waiting.
Waiting for something bigger and better to whisk her away.
People tell her things will change.
That one day she'll wake up and she won't recognize herself.
This girl I know?
She doesn't believe a word of it.
So she sits and she looks out the window.
She wonders what it would be like to pack a bag.
Throw a few shirts a pair of jeans and a pair of shoes into a backpack.
Take that backpack and never come back.
But this girl, she knows something she won't say out loud.
She's landlocked.
Landlocked by the walls, and the car, and the people and the job.
And by herself.
Yeah, mostly by herself.
So she sits and she looks out the window.
Her head has never been swimmy with love.
Her life has never been chaotic.
She's never disappeared.
So the girl, the one that I know?
She just stares out the window.
While sitting in front of her computer.
And twirls her hair.
