Faith is not something that I grasp, it's something that I fake,
As I'm slipping, as I'm falling through the cracks.
Faith without actions is a mask,for making the same mistakes
As I'm slipping as I'm falling through the cracks.
Somehow I find beauty in our failings,
Somehow I find meaning in these lies,
Somehow I'm made perfect in this fracture,
Your back is begging sweetly for my knives.
My faith is a front, I'm spilling blood,
Glancing down to hide my face, I walk with eyes closed
Through monuments of grace, I'm spilling blood
Isn't it sweet how trusted with angels,
And how so quickly I break my promises?
Isn't it sweet, isn't it sweet, isn't it sweet, isn't it sweet?