grudges - bad history month lyrics
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i don’t hold my grudges, my grudges hold me
with the comfort of a mother’s arms
in the certainty of self*righteous
oppositional identity
i don’t hold my comforts, my comforts hold me
hiding out, dodging dread
alone in bed
with the company of endless tv
i can see
i can see
i can see
but the truth won’t set me free
worshiping comfort on bruised knees
while i await the mouths of trees
and every day, there’s one decision:
am i the cure or the disease?
it’s up to me
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