Every church has a steeple

And their own form of suicide

And I'd like to think if I lived through the Bible

Soon after, I would have probably died



But I have no weapons, just a lot of ammunition

And the muddy waters I'm stepping in

Until you showed me my own wisdom



I promised myself I'd never neglect another gray sky

Take another trip to Van Nuys and stop at Best Buy

To see if the record I wrote has sold enough

For me to just fade out and let time pass by



And I don't know where I stand

So I guess I'll just fall apart

Because I know there's blood on my hands

If there's still hate in my heart



I booked a flight back to Los Angeles

I'll be back in the valley, I hope you can handle it

Because nothing says 'I love you' quite like your iron fist

And I'm fine with it, as long as you're happy



I guess there's a reason the artist is rarely in the painting

A self-portrait is too personal to create for sustaining

So where is God in this creation, other than our clouds?

This mystery we pray to, hoping it will water our grounds



And I don't know where I stand

So I guess I'll just fall apart

Because I know there's blood on my hands

If there's still hate in my heart



Let this song be a memorial, to when I knew who I was

I'm picturing out my burial, but my heart is afraid of love

I'm afraid of love