Is there a place up in heaven where they store the world's debris? I swear I'm not a wicked person, is there a wasteland for me? Am I scared? I'm fucking terrified, these thoughts eat me alive (From the inside) Our bodies are prisons for our souls Our skin and blood, the iron bars of confinement But fear not, all flesh decays Death turns all to ash And thus, death frees every soul Is there a church down in hell where the addicts go to meet? Seeking shelter from their demons, trading shame for amnesty? Am I scared? I'm fucking terrified, these thoughts eat me alive From the inside I am a liar, I am a sinner I am the furthest from the grace that my parents made Reminded of it every single day (I am the snake, I am the snare) Reminded of it every single day (who beats of my own heart's what kept me marching) (With no legs to get me there) (Are you awake? Are you aware?) We're all liars, living sinners Now the furthest from the grace that our parents made (We're all walking cadavers with faith that's faulted to despair) It won't define me in any way