The words are sick but sweet for my lungs are full of roses
And my mouth's full of thorns
As a boy they taught me how to hate
As a boy they taught me how to hate myself
With the sanctuary they forged a mournful blade of flesh and guilt
I speak the language of violence
I know the cost of guilt
The empty throne to which it leads
I’ve become the thorns in the crown of christ
He will share my pain
Together we will weep