I'm ashamed.
I talk like a saint, but I am to blame for this terrible, terrible time.
I said you could handle it.
But all that I wanted was the fame, and my peace of mind.
And it comes around again, like my closest friend.
Cause this is a part of me, that I cannot deny.
And it will take everything before it's satisfied.
Now I'm counting days until I get home.
So I can pay you back for every single wrong.
Not like Christ, but seventy-seven times,
I will lie, and say I apologize just to make it right with you.
Pride's a restless thing, it never lets you sleep.
