Empty television brains Sit in designated graves We no longer live this way Drinking every saturday But i'm running out of friends They just left me here for dead Heaven fills the empty space Maybe time will keep this place Break my heart and hope to die Now these memories don't subside Holy cross fits in my hand Miracles i understand I can't go there now-a-days Since the past isn't a place But i still visit anyway It can't help but scream my name Yet steady blues remain instead Smoking cigarettes again Cross my heart and hope to die Will these memories subside Holy cross fits in my hand Miracles i understand see less