Stigmata کے بول

When I was down, you were up Never feeling the pain at all When you were down, you kept shut All the doors that made you small Held your hand Thinking I was quite the man To feed your soul I couldn't see you running empty I was digging in your sores Scarred myself inside the source The wounds appearing with the tries Made me feel like Jesus christ Some of the fears we made leave Left me thinking you heard my call Somehow that made me believe All the bricks in your wall would fall Gave myself A place upon the highest shelf And for that sin I'll always be condemned within I was digging in your sores Scarred myself inside the source The wounds appearing with the tries Made me feel like Jesus christ Now I pay the price