Bed of Rust

I'm sleeping on a bed of rust

And I am breathing hard

And I am breathing hard

Sometimes I feel I'm made of glass

And still I'm breathing hard

And still I'm breathing hard

I'm weakened by this heavy load

And I want nothing more

And I want nothing more

I'm empty cause I dug the hole

And still I'm nothing more

And still I'm nothing more

And the mud in my mouth

Starts to pour while I'm speaking

And I scrape the mistakes

From the thoughts that's misleading

I swear that all feel is doubt

My life is made of sand

My life is made of sand

Like Jesus kept temptations in

It's falling through my hands

It's falling through my hands

Underground in the maze

Where I carve the excuses

With the guilt that I pull

Out of skin that I'm shedding

And the mud in my mouth

Is still here and still pouring

And I choke on the cross

As I'm hanging, as I'm hanging