"The boy with the weight of the world in his hands..."

He won't recover from his losses,
He's not chosen this path, but he watches who it crosses
Maybe move to the right, maybe move to the left
So we can all see his pain he wears like a banner on his chest
And we all say it's sad, and we think it's a shame
And he's called to our attention, but we do not call his name,
The boy with the weight of the world in his hands.

And we're busy with our happiness, busy with our plans
I wonder if alone he wants it taken from his hands
But if things didn't get any harder
He might miss his sacred chance to go a consecrated martyr,
The boy with the weight of the world in his hands.

I wonder which saint that lives inside a bead
will grant him consolation when he counts upon his need
It makes us all angry though we feign to care
But who will be the scale to weigh the cross he has to bear,
The boy with the weight of the world in his hands.

"Is the glass half-full or empty?" I ask him as I fill it
He said it doesn't really matter, pretty soon you're bound to spill it.
With the half logic language of the sermon he delivers
And the way he smiles so knowingly at me gives me the shivers
I pull the blanket higher when I'm finally safe at home
And he'll take a hundred with him, but he always sleeps alone,
The boy with the weight of the world in his hands.

Lyrics by Emily Sailers (pronouns changed)