Sickness

I'm a whore and I'm feeling sorry for myself

In your arms I am drowning like the child I was

I need more, can you help me?

Feed my sin, come and kill me

It's calling

Calling

Calling

Calling me

Endless skies falling freely down upon my head

So much for hopeless dreaming, frustration settles in

I need more, can you help me?

Feed my sin, come and kill me

It's calling

Calling

Calling

Calling me

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah