I used to think dying wasn't fair
Now I'm happy it’s a slow death
I need to stick around a little more
I'm not gonna’ ask what for

I’m not ready for streets of gold
I don’t know how to live like that
Maybe it’s just my imagination
This world is only good for complainin’

God I’m outta’ control
God, are you outta’ control too?
Are you still throwin’ paint at us?
Are you still trying to create us?

It feels like some sort of made up game
I’m no tourist I don't care where I go
I just live here
I’m not very biblical
Just a part-time saint and a full-time criminal

I’ve been movin’ around
I’m not a part of anything
I just remember the people I met
And when it rains they still get wet

God I’m outta’ control
God, are you outta’ control too?
Are you still throwin’ paint at us?
Are you still trying to create us?