Bed of Rust - Two

I’m sleeping on a bed of rust

And I am breathing hard…

And I am breathing hard

Some times I feel I’m made of glass

And still I’m breathing hard…

And still I’m breathing hard

I’m weakened by this heavy load

And I want nothin' more…

And I want nothin' more

I’m empty cause I dug the hole

And still I’m nothin' more…

And still I’m nothin' more

And the mud… in my mouth

Starts to pour… while I’m speaking

And I scrape… the mistakes

From the thoughts… that’s misleading

I swear that all feel is doubt

My life is made of sand…

My life is made of sand

Like Jesus kept temptations in

It’s falling through my hands…

It’s falling through my hands

Underground… in the maze

Where I carve… the excuses

With the guilt… that I pull

Out of skin… that I’m shedding

And the mud… in my mouth

Is still here… and still pouring

And I choke… on the cross

As I’m hanging… as I’m hanging