Million thoughts through my head
The single thing we have instead.
Your mood is different, and I'm not who I was
I feel it changing and happening to us
You turn in paper, and I turned in dust!
I am not broke from bread
You are now raised from hell
They were casting demons,
Was it a concert, was it just a curse
But it just made it worst.
Fold that thought beneath regret
I am not broke from bread...