I woke up dreaming in romance languages   Tangled stories by ghost writers    But more like screaming like my eyes in bandages   All around me your flowers      Oh, Saint Lucy   I can’t find the place where I need to be   Oh, Saint Lucy   Lend your eyes, to me      I walk in to the hall, Ms Love’s doing magic tricks   I take a seat in the back by the door    And the next thing I know I am right there in the front row   Trying to crawl inside her smoke and mirrors      Oh, Saint Lucy   I can’t find the place where I need to be   Oh, Saint Lucy   Lend your eyes, to me      My neighbor is digging a well in the backyard    While I stumble around looking for a light upstairs   And I can’t help but wonder if this is all I am good for    If it’s all that I am if it’s my only prayer then   How far tell me, will faith get me   When the well is almost dry   How far tell me, will faith get me    When the well is, well well well       Oh, Saint Lucy   I can’t find the place where I need to be   Oh, Saint Lucy   Lend your eyes, to me