Holy

Maybe growing up means coughing up my lungs behind your fence, so you can keep laughing Or hanging out with people I don't know, so you won't be mad at me, mad at me, mad at me But you're always mad at me, mad at me, mad at me So don't look at me like I'm a ghost Unclean and dragging your nails through crimson on your kitchen cabinet 'cause you couldn't sleep alone Don't bother saying it's not what you wanted 'Cause the words burn my face and it fills my mouth with blood But I wouldn't spit in your sink And I walked my way through hell, and I woke up on white sheets With the nurses listening and vinyl plastic underneath me Vinyl plastic underneath me And the morning makes me ill and my jaw feels heavy Tourniquet around my neck and my wrist And don't bother saying there is a God Watching the way that we move now Unclean and uncut, we're not holy anymore And the TV downstairs is blaring a static We're not holy anymore We're not holy anymore We're not holy anymore We're not holy anymore