They're Bad But We're Worse

I'm about to faint

no one remembers you when they're dead

or praises you from the grave

I can't sing if I'm six feet under

weeping and it's flooding

in my bedroom tear ducts running

You list each one within you record

Enter tears into your ledger

Consider all our sighs

we lay requests before in expectation

My thoughts trouble me,

but so do gaping stares of the wicked

Open up their mouth-throat

it's an open grave it's a misquote

They love each harmful word

whatever is unbefitting

And the fuzz won't quit

We have sinned

even our fathers did

We traded in the God of glory

for an image of a cow

that eats the pasture

Offered as a sacrifice

all our children

to the demon

we've hurt a lot

and hurt a lot of kinship

Pry us loose from this grip...