| Before I fall to your judgement
|
| Or praise from my knees
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| I believe thereʼs no salvation
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| From what I see, this is a fucking disease
|
| All I’ve felt is a resistance
|
| Since I’ve learned of a vice
|
| (Since I’ve learned of a vice)
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| Why invest so much faith in a jaded life
|
| Between the wrong and right?
|
| Things to say for whichever way
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| Your book of praise conveys the framework laid
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| On God, you fucking son of a bitch
|
| And when you close those eyes
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| You better pray that he exists
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| To save some face
|
| No hand to guide the lines of the steps I take
|
| No need for a spiritual mask to know my place
|
| I canʼt foresee
|
| Trust in a habit, your disease
|
| So set me free (Set me free)
|
| And simply fall in line with the weak
|
| Youʼre just stuck there with your view of black and white
|
| 'Cause you rely on outdated words to define your life
|
| All I’ve felt is a resistance
|
| Since I’ve learned of a vice
|
| (Since I’ve learned of a vice)
|
| Why invest so much faith in a jaded life
|
| Between the wrong and right?
|
| Swift ways of casting judgment
|
| While I beg and plead
|
| I believe thereʼs no salvation from what I see
|
| This is a fucking disease
|
| You say I’ll save some face
|
| If I follow your act of faith
|
| Well, fuck your saving grace
|
| Only I can change my ways
|
| Disease |