London,
Seven in the morning on a Saturday,
And I just missed my train
Worship,
Of the kind of goddess that I sacrifice,
Will reap hard on me
I've got an itch,
You've got an emptiness,
I couldn't fill,
False gods and tenderness
Into your will,
Pray on the falling,
Straps from your shoulders,
How do I hold you?
Make me a monster,
Make me a beast,
Prey on my weakness,
Become my disease
I've been lovesick and empty,
Cold and I'm trembling
Still holding out
For my fairytale ending
Nightmare
Falling as the bottom reaches up for me
Wake up on the ground
Reject
Every lesson anybody has to say
Cause I won't be saved now
I've got an itch
You've got an emptiness
I couldn't fill
False gods and tenderness
Into your will
Pray on the falling
Straps from your shoulders
How do I hold you?
Make me a monster
Make me a beast
Prey on my weakness
Become my disease
I've been lovesick and empty
Cold and I'm trembling
Still holding out
For my fairytale ending
Writer(s): Ronald Michael Pope, Kyle Mccammon
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com