faith.



is not something that I grasp. it's somethign that I fake,

as I'm slipping, as I'm falling through the cracks.

faith,

without action is a mask, for making same mistakes

as I'm slipping, as I'm falling through the cracks.

but somehow I find beauty in our failings,

somehow I find meaning in this life,

somehowI made perfect in this fracture,







your back is begging sweetly for my knives.

I'm spilling blood. glancing down to hide my face.

i walk with eyes closed tight through monuments of grace.

my faith is a front, i'm spilling blood.

isn't it sweet how i'm trusted with angels and how quickly i break my promises.

isn't it sweet?