What to Make

Oh, momma what to make of my dreams

I, crawl into bed with awful things

And i tried so hard, to sleep so well

But something drags my mind to hell

Doctor, doctor, whats this sickness in the soul

That makes my friends grow so cold

What kind of love is so easily sold

I think its finally taken its toll

Tin man you speak of vacancy

But my friend your so naive

You've got more love than you could ever believe

And thats more than i can say for me

Oh, Darling how deep is your wound

Do you still believe that promises come true

I know it feels like you wont make it through

But what kind of God would abandon you

Oh, Jesus why must i sing

When i feel i've lost everything

I swam so far, but my body grew weak

So i close my eyes, and i Just sink