| Feeling cold, feeling empty. |
| Set the stage, where you want me
|
| And this crowd right before me doesn’t care that I’m dying
|
| And the audience stands with their eyes fixed on the preconceived version of me
|
| I’m so betrayed by your hopes, but I will not hide myself for your peace of mind
|
| Oh, but Child. |
| I’ve got Vices like any other man
|
| Raise a boy to a cynic. |
| Take his love, and then let it turn into something
|
| passionate
|
| Something sick, something rabid
|
| And I vent to keep myself from caving. |
| I don’t hate you, I just hate where I’m
|
| heading
|
| I’m left here asking, when did I trade in my bleeding heart for a selfish win?
|
| Oh, but Mother. |
| I’ve got Vices like any other man
|
| Vices that you’re not used to. |
| Vices that’ll make you think less of me
|
| Leave me numb. |
| Leave me jaded. |
| She’s a dream, I just play dead
|
| I’ve been blessed, I’ve been hated. |
| She’s the constant, and I’m her addict
|
| She’s the only peace in this world, uneasy
|
| While I bite my tongue to keep from breaking the heart that I’ve spent my whole
|
| life seeking
|
| The only heart I’ve ever needed
|
| Oh, but Lover. |
| I’ve got Vices like any other man
|
| Vices that you’re not used to. |
| Vices that’ll make you think…
|
| Oh, but Lover. |
| I’ve got Vices like any other man
|
| Vices that you’re not used to. |
| Vices that’ll make you think less of me.
|
| Less of me
|
| Feeling cold, feeling empty. |
| I am low, unworthy
|
| Bleed the God. |
| Bleed the blessing. |
| Like a vulture feasting
|
| I’ll exist as if I don’t feel conviction of my ignorance to my perfect prison
|
| But I feel the stabs on my wrists and ankles every time I try…
|
| To forget you. |
| To forget you
|
| Oh, but Jesus. |
| I’ve got Vices like any other man
|
| Vices that you’re so used to. |
| Vices that won’t make you think less of me |