Sock Heaven

Steve Taylor

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    Out of the wringer, into the dryer
    Spins the clothes higher
    Squeezing out static and shocks
    Little stockings tumbling 'round together
    Couldn't cling forever
    Now I'm missing one of my socks

    Lord, where do they go?

    CHORUS

    One pile waits with their god in a box
    The other pile nervously mocks heaven
    Misfits lost in the dryer, take heart
    Maybe there's a place up in sock heaven

    Out of the wringer, into the dryer
    Couldn't just retire
    Had to try tempting the fates
    One little band spinning 'round together
    Couldn't cling forever
    God, I think I'm losing my mates

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    Seven good years, followed by a feeling I'd hit the glass ceiling
    Maybe I'd best disappear
    Pick any market
    Pick a straitjacket
    If you can't act it
    Misfit, you don't belong here

    Lord, where do we go?

    (CHORUS)

    Didn't want a platform to build a new church
    Didn't want a mansion in rock heaven
    Didn't want more than to be understood
    Maybe there's a place up in sock heaven

    Lord, where do we go?

    We're gathered here to ask the Lord's blessing
    Maybe not his blessing
    Maybe we're not asking at all
    Out of the box with every good intention
    Did you fail to mention
    This time we were destined to crawl?
    And every day that we died just a little more
    I was sure you were sovereignly watching us dangle
    I don't get it now
    But I'll get it when
    In sock heaven I see it all from your angle

    (CHORUS)

    God's got his saints up in sock heaven

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    Composición: Steve Taylor

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