I've got an open sore. I'm bleeding on my bedsheets
folding conviction to somehow make the ends meet.
There's no point in sleep; it's fluttering and brief.
Lately, she's sick of counting dead sheep, and I see
that look you get when you think that it's my last breath.
You've met death. You wear each encounter like a cheap dress
its not your fault that the questions still itch my skin,
and I pick at the scabs that I hope to find the answers in.
They never come. I'm left to waste away
into no more than a bag of bones, words I wouldn't say.
I chase my dreams with medicine. I'll be okay one day.
There was a storm that shook the house-- didn't hear a thing,
I smiled as you rested your head on my breast.
Nature was a whisper drowned out by your soft breath,
and as your fingertips tip toed across my chest
I promised I'd tell you everything I laid to rest.

To every man whose ever met his maker,
every sunrise is a sunset begging for an anchor.
I've been brought to the gallows. Can't run from it.
Tried to tie the noose, but I couldn't get the hang of it.
To every man whose ever met his maker,
every sunrise is a sunset begging for an anchor.
I've been brought to the gallows. Can't run from it.
Tried to tie the noose, but I couldn't get the hang of it.

I try to keep it simple without losing the meaning.
Try to keep the peace without keeping all the piece,
Could create a photograph of lessons that I learned,
but I refuse to paint a picture, rather say a thousand words.
I learned to retract everything I might of ever said,
learned the roles, played the parts, lied in someone else bed.
I was never meant to be who I always said I was
I dotted the last i with a drop of my own blood, and
finished the t with the line I swore I'd never cross,
found myself stuck in a paradise I never lost.
The devil never played a trick, this hell has always been my home.
Any means to meet my ends. revenge is such a somber tone.
I lied until the white turned black,
and I crucified myself on the fingers I crossed behind my back.
I could never ask forgiveness for the things that I have done.
I was born swinging. I'm the hangman's son.

To every man whose ever met his maker,
every sunrise is a sunset begging for an anchor.
I've been brought to the gallows. Can't run from it.
Tried to tie the noose, but I couldn't get the hang of it.
To every man whose ever met his maker,
every sunrise is a sunset begging for an anchor.
I've been brought to the gallows. Can't run from it.
Tried to tie the noose, but I couldn't get the hang of it.