Seeking redemption after settling for god on a plate is a cold and lonely business;
Double down on doubt, all on black for the last spin of the night.
Chase the edge, stood on a ledge beyond the talk down and hell bent on the here and now.
Less and less the thrill, more and more the empty chill,
Separate Sabbath for the frail and ill.
Your head is a dangerous place to be if you've got a head like me:
Full to the brim with weathered sin and ideals fighting the fight to not give in.
Grind and shake and bend and break and swear you'll learn amends to make...
Hold onto hope that you will.
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