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 soul?
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, in
I need more
Can you help me
Feed my soul?
Come and kill me
It's calling, calling, calling, calling me
Calling
I need more
Can you help me
Feed my soul?
Come and kill me
It's calling, calling, calling, calling me
Writer/s: Grey Daze
