I'm about as holy as a bullet riddled body is
I'm crooked, I'm bent, been left for dead and I'm malcontent.
With the fact that I'm feeling fine,
Aside from my blackened lungs and misshapen spine.
I gave myself to the night and if you come to me in search of faith.
You will find me rotting in the bowels of a saint.
We've polluted our own,
We reap what we sow,
And nothing can save our souls.
Do we want it? No.
Do we need it? No.
Do we believe it?
Are we compelled to care for love,
To find a love we know nothing of?
We gave ourselves to the night. x2
I believe in sin cause sin believes in me,
It carries my head on a stick and worships it.
How can I forgive when I'm up to my neck in this?
You better repent, repent,
You've carved yourself a witch. x2
Oh!
Come on, come give yourselves to the night,
Come on, give yourselves to the night.
Do we want it? No.
Do we need it? No.
Do we believe it?
Are we compelled to care for love,
To find a love we know nothing of?
We gave ourselves to the night.
You will find me rotting in the bowels of a saint.
You will find me rotting, oh, in the bowels of a saint.