Your hands are trembling touches, shaky decisions, and warm wishes
Your lips like soft pillows, unrelenting waves, and firm beliefs
Your mouth like home, like hungry minds, like silent promises
Your shoulders like stability
Your chest like my hiding place
Your back like protection, like a shield, like my security
Your arms like a seatbelt, like heaters, like my comfort

Words like sugar
Eyes like oceans
Hair like down
Voice like honey

Dégagé

So all rights and homage belong to god,
But who would want this body after they've left it to rot.
I've got a wicked set of morals,
And the baggage to match,
So before he cut the call the devil stated, "What a catch."

Rip the nails from your hands and hop off the cross,
We could use the wood.
Choke down your pride you ******* product with a cost,
A martyrs blood's a wasted good.


I can't keep the plug in the jug,
At least you can keep the change.
You can have the family love,
I'd rather trade it for the chains.

Does this pain you? Is this really pain?
Does this pain you? Is this really pain?

Bottom-feeder, bottom-feeder-
The garden burns as does the seeder,
Suicide swings along the feeter on the highway to hell, but I'm a nonbeliever.
So you have your book and you've built your towers,
But does your faith constitute strength or does it make you a coward?

I've been to a hundred holy places,
Heard a thousand sermons,
But most I value all the learning that I gained from all my searching.

Certain death, it's certain death, it's what they told me would happen if I got up and left,
And sure I'm troubled, I struggle, and I'm not the best,
But I'm sure there exists better answers than this.

Because what is a life,
To be governed by some verses that we can't know are right?
And you tell me that my faith is weak,
But you ignore any options, shut me down, and just claim deceit.

I want a refund, here's my receipt, because if I must bow down to something angry at me,
Then I might as well just off myself,
I'd rather die on my feet that survive on my knees.

I say all this, not out of spite, not out of resentment, I'm not mad at life.
I'm just stating that it could be something more, something else,
Than a choice between heaven or hell.

You wanna save me? But is this really saved?
Is there something wrong with who I am? Or will this god only love me if I change?

Is that it? Am I not enough to work? It's a concept I've struggled with since birth,
And if He's there and I don't have a choice, then why won't He answer,

**I've never heard a voice.