What could they do?
What would they say?
I have scars all over
My blemished flesh
Would they shun me?
For being more in tune to my suffering
Would they send me away?
Shove a pill past my lips
And tell me I'm okay

I just want to feel hope again
Want to be washed clean
Of these physical scars
That have caged me
I want to let go of this
These feelings that I get
More than anything, I'd rather
Die than just pretend

I want to go home
It's a strong urge I cannot shake
But I'm sitting in my bedroom
So tell me, if this isn't home
Then what is??
Would I rather lie inside my grave?
Would I decide to wake up
and live just another day?

Could you fill my heart with hope
Instead of this sorrow that
I've come to know too well?
They can wash the blood off of my hands
But the stains on my soul
Could be never cleansed

They could try for a thousand years
To try to convince me
That this is all worth the tears
But the fact of the matter is
Nothing could ever change
Because upon my soul
Is one large black stain

BUT THE STAINS ON MY SOUL
COULD NEVER BE CLEANSED

AND THE STAINS ON MY SOUL
WILL NEVER BE REPENT

NO, THE STAINS ON MY SOUL
WILL NEVER BE CLEANSED