Sickness

I'm a whore and I'm feeling sorry for myself In your arms and I am drowning like the child I was I need more, can you help me? Feed my sin, come and kill me It's calling Calling Calling Calling me Endless skies falling freely down upon my head So much for hopeless dreaming, frustration settles in I need more, can you help me? Feed my sin, come and kill me It's calling Calling Calling Calling me, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah