Vera Grace Exposition
Hold me down weight me down again tear me open
Bend my back again
Let me feed this instinct in me
My thoughts are in two modes:
A figure of faith or an eternal fiend nest in the hell inside my dreams
"Defy Him or deliver me"
Everyday we constantly battle
The church feels more like a prison and my brother feels more like a stranger
Praying gives me nothing
My body is sick, my body is sick
I leave this place to find my fix
The heavy rain hitting my face
This urge is growing
Shelter and a place to hide is all that I can see
I slip through the heavy wooden door
I find my self at a bar with no company
"Bring me what I need"
A drink to calm this zealous leech
The clock hand strikes twelve
I'm torn open
The barman points to the wooden door
The glass I hold, slips to the floor
Drunken words, a fight breaks out
April 4th: His blood stains the ground
I awake
His glazed eyes stare back at me
Oh my god, forgive me for what I have done
