Killingtons Bent
Once more I'm at a low within myself. I can make believe
to deal. Too late to turn back. Complaining 'the
passion's gone' are words that define wasted time. Shot
down by inquiring eyes that can't disguise. Rehearsing
the words they long to hear still I can't lie it rips
inside; bang, you're dead. Do you feel for me like I
think you do? Give me faith a new order to give me
faith..
