Sick - Mas Ysa

It’s not with love

You rip the child to pieces And crush his little voice

Inside your broken heart Until those

Those restless arms

Still reach up

So much

The hope to change

Or the change to mean it Lost with stolen tongues

Moving until they’re cold Or stuck

And sore

Is there enough

Is it a chore

Love

I know you get

You get to need it

Trade some peace For lust

Then what’s the point Of trust

If only the sun If only the sun Sees us