It's the act of you killing
It's the fall of a morning
It's the things that you did
It's the life that is calling
There's no act of grace
It's a life but at least
You can't take it back
You can't kid yourself
No encounter, no attachment to
You can't kid yourself
You never wake up
Stick out loud
Wish you weren't here
Moving steals, in as much as we reveal
Become angry, nothing faced
That you still can't remember
Stick out gestures
The people would rather
Wishing worthless, wishing backwards
You never wake up
There's no act of grace
Anything less than we corrupt
No act of grace
No act of grace
There's no act of grace
Stiff the crowd
Nothing followed
It's the act of you killing
It's the fall of a morning
There vacant sways
That you still can't remember
No act of grace
Lapse of faith
You wake in before
Or at least you would die for
It is contained
It's a vice of disciples
It's the life that is calling
You wake in before
To the minds, to the greedy
It's the things that you did
Needful kinds
The people would rather
Instead of suffer
You can't take it back
