Reprieve

Is there a place up in heaven where they store the worlds 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
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. I’m reminded of it every single day
(I am the snake, I am the snare)
Reminded of it every single day
(Who's beats of my own heart’s what kept me marching with no legs to get me
there)
We’re all liars, living sinners
(Are you awake, are you aware?)
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