| Faith
|
| Is not something that I grasp
|
| It’s something that I fake
|
| As I’m slipping, as I’m falling through the cracks
|
| Faith
|
| Without actions is a mask
|
| For making the same mistakes
|
| As I’m slipping as I’m falling through the cracks
|
| Somehow I find beauty in our failings
|
| Somehow I find meaning in these lies
|
| Somehow I’m made perfect in this fracture
|
| Your back is begging sweetly for my knives
|
| I’m spilling blood
|
| Glancing down to hide my face
|
| I walk with eyes closed tight through monuments of grace
|
| Somehow I find beauty in our failings
|
| Somehow I find meaning in these lies
|
| Somehow I’m made perfect in this fracture
|
| Your back is begging sweetly for my knives!
|
| My faith is a front, I’m spilling blood
|
| Glancing down to hide my face, I walk with eyes closed
|
| Through monuments of grace, I’m spilling blood
|
| Glancing down to hide my face I walk with eyes closed
|
| Through monuments of grace
|
| Isn’t it sweet how
|
| Trusted with angels
|
| And how so quickly
|
| I break my promises?
|
| Isn’t it sweet?
|
| Isn’t it sweet?
|
| Isn’t it sweet?
|
| Isn’t it sweet? |