I don’t know who you are, and it’s too hard
To keep pretending that you’re more
Than the mark of an old scar
That doesn’t hurt anymore
And I’ve grown numb of the fear
That everything I’ve done
Was being controlled by the father, by the son
By the holy ghost you’ve become

But I would fold my hands and buckle to my knees
And I would pray the sky would fall down on me
And I would stumble to the shore to be baptized in the waves
If it meant that everything we know doesn’t go away, someday

And I know my mother cries
When she realizes I don’t love you like she does
But still she bows her head and prays that you forgive me
So what does that make me?
The unloving, ungrateful son of a saint?
What if that makes me the monster an angel raised?

But I would fold my hands and buckle to my knees
And I would pray the sky would fall down on me
And I would stumble to the shore to be baptized in the waves
If it meant that everything we know doesn’t go away
Someday

It’s so cold in the shadow of their faith
But I will not be crushed for heaven’s sake

But I would fold my hands and buckle to my knees
And I would pray the sky would fall down on me

But I would fold my hands and buckle to my knees
And I would pray the sky would fall down on me
And I would stumble to the shore to be baptized in the waves
If it meant that everything we know doesn’t go away
Someday