Lyrics Lush Rimbaugh - Senses Fail

Lush Rimbaugh

God, send the meteor
Cause I’ve had enough of this
And I’d like to see some good
Ole fashioned wrathful testament
Why why is it so hard to
Try try to be open to
Eyes eyes that are not yours
In shoes you’ve never walked in?
When I heard you were dying I have to admit
That I felt a bit of sympathy
But then you open your mouth and confirmed to me
That you’re a piece of shit and I’m glad you’re suffering
You fuck
I’m not sorry, I’m not fucking sorry
I’m not sorry anymore, oh whoa
There’s a special place in hell for you
There’s a special place in hell for you
I’m sure they’ve got your number at the door
When I was young I used to hate myself
Because bigots like you were given pedestals
You proselytize in the name of religion
But it’s all for show you’re gonna be locked out of heaven
There is no repenting, there is no coming back
You’re going to hell with a mark on your back
Where you’ll fry like a saint but unlike Joan of Arc
You’re not worth the piss to put out the spark
I’m not sorry, I’m not fucking sorry
I’m not sorry anymore, oh whoa
There’s a special place in hell for you
There’s a special place in hell for you
I’m sure they’ve got your number at the door
You spend your whole life trying to make others
Feel bad for things they can not control
And now you’re dying clinging on to all the
Things you tell yourself but you know in your soul
You will be forgotten
And you will be forgotten like the snow and the ice
While basking in a warm summer sun
I’m not sorry, I’m not fucking sorry
I’m not sorry anymore, oh whoa
There’s a special place in hell for you
There’s a special place in hell for you
I’m sure they’ve got your number at the door