Painting a picture with ethanol
into the mind that's broken
A new piercing to remind me
that my mouth is always swollen

The insomnia beside you
the sleep in a place I am alone
This Stockholm syndhrome
I like to call home

Everyone I'll ever meet
I'll just be second hand
Everyone I'll ever kiss
I'll just be second hand

God's creation at it's rest
no friction, not with sex
Passing days like passing out
his face reminds me of what you wish to see

Feeling lonely beside you
this is like god to believers
This blurred out attraction
I like to call a happy home

Everyone I'll ever meet
I'll just be second hand
Everyone I'll ever kiss
I'll just be second hand

No describing to the core
no doctrines to heal this whore
A martyr like I'd always sworn
A sinner when I was born