Ninety million miles an hour, Desireé prances the universe,
Things would have to be exploding before you can stop her,
Hands in the middle of everything, she's moving as fast as she can,
Why does she bother reaching if she's only gonna take a handful?
Calling Desireé,
Calling Desireé.
Desireé's wide awake and holding on to everything under the sun,
Grabbing postcards from all the places she's been to but had to run,
She's got a wagon full of keepsakes she pulls behind her steps,
I guess she hasn't heard the adage: the biggest wagon is the emptiest.
Calling Desireé,
Calling Desireé.
Desireé's got a lot of pieces, but she don't know where they fall,
She never sees the picture long enough to give it thought,
Whatever she holds on to, she can't let go with her hands.
Desireé's on her knees against that wagon when life calls for the last dance,
But she's too tired; she's been grooving too hard,
Looking up toward the miles above, she whispers to eternity,
It'd been a good dance 'til life cuts in,
Calling Desireé, we watch,
Calling Desireé,
Calling Desireé, we watch,
Calling Desireé,
Calling Desireé, we watch,
Calling Desireé,
Calling, calling, calling.
Calling Desireé, calling Desireé,
She's watching them call.
