Is there a place up in heaven where they store the worlds debris? I swear I’m not a wicked person. Is there a wasteland for me? Am I scared? I’m fucking terrified. These thoughts eat me alive from the inside.
Is there a church down in hell where the addicts go to meet? Seeking shelter from their demons trading shame for amnesty? Am I scared? I’m fucking terrified. These thoughts eat me alive from the inside.
I am a liar, I am a sinner, I am the furthest from the grace that my parents made I’m reminded of it every single day
(I am the snake, I am the snare who’s beats of my own heart’s what kept me marching with no legs to get me there.)
We’re all liars, living sinners, now the furthest from the grace that our parents made It won’t define me in any way.
(Are you awake, are you aware? We’re all walking cadavers with faith that’s faulted to despair)Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
