Sock Heaven

Out of the wringer, into the dryer
Spins the clothes higher
Squeezing out the 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?

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
I think I'm losing my mates
Seven good years, followed by a feeling
I'd hit the glass ceiling
Maybe I'd best disappear
Pick any market, pick a straightjacket
If you can't act it
Misfit, you don't belong here

Lord, where do we go?

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're destined to crawl
And every day that we died 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

God's got His saints up in sock heaven

Written by Steve Taylor © 1993 Warner Alliance Music/Solyent Tunes ASCAP

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