Is there a place up in heaven where they store the world's debris?

I swear I’m not a wicked person; is there a wasteland for me?

Am I scared? I’m fxcking terrified, these thoughts eat me alive

(From the inside)

Our bodies are prisons for our souls

Our skin and blood, the iron bars of confinement

But fear not

All flesh decays

Death turns all to ash

And thus, death frees every soul

Is there a church down in hell where the addicts go to meet?

Seeking shelter from their demons, trading shame for amnesty?

Am I scared? I’m fxcking terrified, these thoughts eat me alive

From the inside

I am a liar, I am a sinner

I am the furthest from the grace that my parents made

I’m reminded of it every single day

I am the snake, I am the snare

Who’s beats of my own heart’s what kept me marching

With no legs to get me there

We’re all liars, living sinners

Now the furthest from the grace that our parents made

It won’t define me in any way

We’re all walking cadavers with faith that’s faulted to despair

Why