They call holidays an option for a reason.
I heard your coming back to life, just for the fourth.
I've been catching all your ghosts for every season.
I pray to god you won't come back here anymore.
Do you pray with him too?
They should deliver all my blessings in small brown paper handbags near the porch.
I wished I'd known that you were bleeding while i sat and watched you reading with the Lord.
Do read with him, too?
When you look at me.
I'll be digesting your legs.
Cause i can hardly see.
Whats in front of me these days.
And those days too.
I've got to take what I'm making
and turn it into something for you.
I've got to take what I'm making
and turn it into something for you.
No I've got to break what I'm making
I've got to turn it into nothing for you.
Oh I've got to break what I'm making
and turn it into nothing for you.
God, my God, where have you been?
Oh my God, oh my God, where have you been?
If they call holidays an option it's pretentious.
And I can feed it with the lions to the Christians.
Oh those lions are coming.
Oh they're coming.
Oh they're coming.
Oh they're coming.
Oh they're coming.
Oh they're coming.
Oh they're coming.
So God, God, my God, where have you been?
God, God, my God, exactly how have you been?