I heard those stories told to me, and I put my faith in Jesus, but I struggled with the reasons. Now I'm losing money, I stumble aimlessly through dark and dying streets. I used to try, and that was enough. I just keep fucking up. I can't keep fucking up.
I heard those church bells on Sunday and they brought back familiar feelings, but those memories are fleeting. Now I'm circling, always circling, these dark and empty streets, but they don't hold the same excitement for me. And I can't keep fucking up.
I'll ask forgiveness from my mother for not praying to the father, son and ghost. She's gonna take the news the worst.
I bike these lonely streets. I'm not so confident as it may seem. I'm losing hope, I'm losing faith, I'm losing sleep. Betrayed for following these lonely dreams. I guess I'll keep fucking up and bike these lonely streets. I guess I'll keep fucking up.