0:00 / ???
  1. Sunday Morning

From the recording Grave Intentions

In cart Not available Out of stock

Lyrics

I'm no stranger to your controversy.
The things that you do are killing me
but I kind of like your dark company.
The psycho in me needs chemistry.

And though you bite the hand that feeds
the bleeding stops after a while.

I want to take you to church.
I want you praying for me.
I want to give you a purpose
on Sunday morning.

The smell of your death.
Your leather jacket.
The breath on my neck for one last kiss.
Your ancient demise.
The black in your eyes.
The dangerous way you exist.

With grave intentions I oblige
for I'm oblivious to you.