| You’re making me sick to my stomach
|
| Testing my faith to its peak
|
| But it took me a while to believe it
|
| It was down in a space I can’t reach
|
| But I can’t excuse this anymore
|
| This feeling inside of me
|
| Your peripheral focus keeps failing to notice
|
| I’m tearing apart at the seams
|
| I’ve never been up so high
|
| These parachutes, the missing proof
|
| I’ve made a mistake this time
|
| That I’ve made a mistake this time
|
| Scratching the surface
|
| And we’re all imperfect
|
| But there’s something about you
|
| That tightens the noose
|
| If ignorance is bliss
|
| Then I’d be better off
|
| Not knowing you
|
| Not knowing you
|
| When you scratch through the surface
|
| We’re all imperfect
|
| But you fired the gun
|
| That broke through my lungs
|
| If ignorance is bliss
|
| Then I’d be better off
|
| Not knowing you
|
| 'Cause you’re making me sick in my stomach
|
| Boiling the blood in my veins
|
| I feel the will in me fading
|
| To think of a reason to stay
|
| But I can’t excuse this anymore
|
| These feelings inside of me
|
| Abusing your strength and my weakness
|
| Tears me apart at the seams
|
| Oh, I’ve never been up so high (Never been up so high)
|
| This parachutes, the missing proof
|
| I’ve made a mistake this time (Made a mistake this time)
|
| I’ve made a mistake this time
|
| Scratching the surface
|
| And we’re all imperfect
|
| But there’s something about you
|
| That tightens the noose
|
| If ignorance is bliss
|
| Then I’d be better off
|
| Not knowing you
|
| Not knowing you
|
| When you scratch through the surface
|
| We’re all imperfect
|
| But you fired the gun
|
| That broke through my lungs
|
| If ignorance is bliss
|
| Then I’d be better off
|
| Not knowing you
|
| Not knowing you
|
| (Not knowing you)
|
| (Not knowing you)
|
| (Not knowing you)
|
| (Not knowing you) |