In His Hands
Driven conversations, even I can readWouldn't want to fake it, and I'm tired of this dreamTaking medications, in the back of the roomDriven conversations, he died in June.
See the stab wounds in his handsSee him dying in his roomHe's dying in his roomHe's dying in his roomHeading for me, heading this wayHe is coming, I don't care
Wouldn't want to fake it, well I don't mindGiving conversations to a friend of mineGiving medications, in a lighted roomWouldn't want to fake it, I know I should
See the stab wounds in his handsYou killed him, I don't careKeep a promise, you would tooKeep a promise, even youSee the silence in his headHe is coming, I don't care
We're not gonna make it, well I don't mindWouldn't want to fake it, but I have this timeGiving conversations, to whom they don't knowTaking medications till my stomach's full.
See a famine in his headSee him coming at their heelsHe loves you, give him a chanceI don't love him, I don't careSee him starving, give her hellIt is over, we don't care In His Room