Rotting Fruit

On my hands and knees
And bent down at my own two feet
To ask forgiveness
Grant what I can't keep
The rotting fruit
The dying tree
To not bear witness
Now's the time to weep
To wake the nerve that's been asleep
To shake the stillness
To practice what I preach
To live a life not half asleep
A dream so vicious

All that's good and all that's golden
Can't hide truth and the fruit is rotting

When the floorboards warp
And I am ripped from what is warm
I face my vices
Rubber soles are worn
Eliptic running
Faith is torn and patched with crisis
Seeking out the cold
Filled with fear
With what I've been told is good and righteous
Fleeting from the norm
Or follow suit to fill their void
Accepting blindness

All that's good and all that's golden
Can't hide truth and the fruit is rotting
All that's good and all that's golden
Can't hide truth and the fruit is rotting

When the cotton of my shirt
Is ripped and soaked in all the dirt
And juice and mold from what I've hurt
And squeezed and told not to return
I'll rip the fabric off my back
And shake the cycle, watch it crack
The rotting fruit stains what I lack
The rotting fruit stains what I lack, oh

The rotting fruit stains
The rotting fruit stains
Hmm, hmm
Hmm, hmm
Hmm