these buildings lie in ruin And I'm bleeding on the inside I feel angry I feel tired All bad habits turned to sickness If they're all saints then I'
And these buildings lie in ruin And I'm bleeding on the inside I feel angry I feel tired All bad habits turned to sickness If they're all saints then
day in my ghetto I hear echoes, where anger cry, feel me? I bring tears to the angel eye, and paint pictures with a pen, for the saints that die Why you
