Cooking hope in my stove
With a bitter taste on my tongue
I need a reason to fake at all
I need a reason with hands that are six feet tall
If you were God instead
No skins and bones
No broken head
With a hand like a bear-shaped claw
I need a reason to reason with myself at all

Your words taste like sin

Hey now you got me thinking I was wrong
It's the dirty seed in my teeth
That comes out when I start to speak

Hey now you got me thinking I was wrong
It's the seasoned man, gun in hand
Who gave up his right to understand

We were dead before the seed hit the ground
And we begged the whole way down
Oh Lord, what should we do with this town?
You ask me, I say we burn it down

You got caught with a childish thought
Running through your head
Another way to see the cost
Of living with the dead

Hey now you got me thinking I was wrong
It's the dirty seed in my teeth
That comes out when I start to speak

Hey now you got me thinking I was wrong
It's the seasoned man, gun in hand
Who gave up his right to understand

Was it God who sliced me up this way?
And threw me out on the street
Just to watch me beg?
No I've got no reasons left
And nobody to blame
But this dark, haunting, hollow spirit
Running through my veins

I need a reason