IRC-Galleria

I've drowned my conscience and cast another stone.
I took to preaching while dancing on the code.
I can't see where I've been and only god knows where I'll be.
But there must be a place for a wretch like me.

Oh, lord knows I'm tired,
But I, I, I won't rest my head until I'm home.
And if my hands find themselves another body, well,
You can't blame them for trying to keep warm.

Morals are simply a matter of time,
And where you lay your head's a question of pride.
But when it's said and done you'll find in the light,
That privilege and wit make me misfortune's child.

Can't tell collapse that it needs to slow down.
Can't tell death that it shouldn't come around.
And when they take my head and put it on a stake,
I know that guilt and disgrace keep the dead man awake.
Bartering your figure for a paralyzing love,
What have you done?