SAINT OF THE PARKING LOT Verse 1 I learned devotion from vending machines, from feeding quarters to impossible things. From church signs fading beside liquor stores, both promising something worth suffering for. The moon hung low like a security light, buzzing above another Friday night. I was twenty kinds of lonely at once, trying to turn survival into a religion. Pre-Chorus I kept mistaking open wounds for open doors. ⸻ Chorus Saint of the parking lot, Patron saint of maybe. Praying in fluorescent light because heaven wouldn’t take me. Saint of the parking lot, holding onto broken lately. Praying in fluorescent light because heaven wouldn’t take me. Saint of the parking lot… Saint of the… ⸻ Verse 2 The cashier knew my face by heart, called me “sweetheart” while I fell apart. Outside, the asphalt held the heat of every ghost that walked these streets. Some girls inherit diamond rings. Some girls inherit coping mechanisms. I wore mine like a halo made from things I should’ve left behind. Pre-Chorus I thought salvation would arrive in some dramatic burst of gold. Instead— ⸻ Chorus Saint of the parking lot, Patron saint of maybe. Praying in fluorescent light because heaven wouldn’t take me. Saint of the parking lot, counting every crack that saved me. Praying in fluorescent light because heaven wouldn’t take me. Saint of the parking lot… Saint of the… ⸻ Bridge Nobody tells you the holiest part comes after. After the sirens. After the wreckage. After the beautiful excuses. Most miracles arrive looking suspiciously like effort. Like getting out of bed. Like answering the phone. Like choosing tomorrow when nobody would have blamed you for choosing otherwise. The angels never came. But morning did. ⸻ Final Chorus Saint of the parking lot, Patron saint of maybe. Praying in fluorescent light because heaven wouldn’t take me. Saint of the parking lot, the patron saint of staying. Praying in fluorescent light while the world keeps rearranging. Saint of the parking lot, half heartbreak, half bravery. Praying in fluorescent light— because heaven wouldn’t take me. Saint of the parking lot. Saint of the… ⸻ Outro The moon hangs low like a security light. And for the first time, that feels like enough. Almost alright. Saint of the Parking Lot… Saint of the Parking Lot… Saint of the…
