She Put up with What She Put Down

Reading the draft Wasn't sure where to laugh The language wasn't very refined Skipping ahead She wasn't sure where it lead The patterns were too hard to find Traffic and lights Connecting flights She read it through The church rang the bell Heard it from her hotel She stood up to open the blinds A rolled magazine Became part of her scene She put up with what she put down Laying in bed Now off the top of her head Knowing she could take 'em to town Traffic and lights Setting her sights She always knew Some aim to be great But they just illustrate That history's often unkind Writing her thoughts As she stares out to the highway Will anyone read or review? Cool ocean air As she pulls in to the driveway The ceiling is cracked But she's leaning out the window Out of the window Out of the window Out of the window Traffic and lights Connecting flights She thought it through Make no mistake She'll never let them eat cake Because history's often unkind Still the church rang the bell Echoed through the hotel The key is often harder to find