Grace
Dawson Sinnicks
From the page, burning away
Another mother, preaching her grace
A rotting prophet, bile in her veins
You are my honor
Grace
Grace
Get on your knees, kneel and obey
Abstain from pleasure, living to pray
It'll pay off later they say
Where is your God now
You shoot me up and spit me out
In tiny morsels, out your mouth
And yet I stand here, to this day
A gold Pariah
Grace
Grace