Texty: Converge. Unloved And Weeded Out. The High Cost Of Playing God.

Falling head over heals for burden and bright light
A high cost of playing god i guess
Please, tell me how to survive in this
The unforgiving role of seeing too much
under the dead wake of morning
Im finding solace in a diseased heart
and im finding love in acts of desperation
You're no angel my friend, your no angel
And here we are teetering on the edge of tired departure
and there you are with a blessing from below
With one drop for every callous ending
and one drop for every un-granted wish
Spare me the day when i discover a new found low