Deliver us from the gathering storm Unworthy though we are Leave us living safe and warm And sheltered in your arms
Congratulations... You've Hit Bottom
@youvehitbottom.bsky.social
We are all spirits, trapped and dying. Trapped and dying.
I'm not scared to die I've seen it in my dreams And every time I get a little bit more used to the feeling
You won't own this You won't own up You won't own me
The unreal is everything where the real ceases to be
You made my soul fade away You took my own for a day You took my all as your prey
HOLD OUR HEADS UNDER THE WATER LET OUR EYES ROLL BACK AND LOOK DEEP DEEP INTO OUR SKULLS IS THERE ANYTHING WORTH KEEPING?
The unreal is everything where the real ceases to be
Let's slowly fuck against the wall Where they'll watch both our bodies fall
We all just end up as dust Glorified ash, rust
Oh, God, someone save us from us
Hey you, you got a cigarette, man? You know I know you got one on ya I usually keep mine in the backseat But it's buried behind all the rubble
Deliver us from the gathering storm Unworthy though we are Leave us living safe and warm And sheltered in your arms
HOLD OUR HEADS UNDER THE WATER LET OUR EYES ROLL BACK AND LOOK DEEP DEEP INTO OUR SKULLS IS THERE ANYTHING WORTH KEEPING?
Hands hold tightly, no one shares
He's just an old man living in an old man's body
The preacherman says it's the end of times
You won't own this You won't own up You won't own me
In a crooked little town They were lost and never found
Out of the corner of my eye I see the ghost stutter-stepping like strobe lights Ever inching closer, but always out of reach
Does he hurt you like I do? Does he even hit you too?
And on this wall, a different reflection I can recall it's not the same face
And if I didn't love you then, I love you now But it's easy to love something when there's pain in its eyes
Is there someplace I belong?
Nothing is sacred Nothing holds true Everyone tries to make a fool out of you
"Home is where the hearts are" Said the hunger to the waiting predator Now I know where to go
On infinite wings I fly from affection Syllables, images, deny self-worth; The pain of convention