We are a lost generation of saved souls

We pretend like drowning in alcohol is somehow better than drowning in thoughts

And that a Tuesday night service can erase a Saturday night regret

We praise a trap god

And trap ourselves in a box on a shelf

Or in the drug dissolving on our tongues.

The ones that survive are the heroes

While the ones that don't are the martyrs.

Fast times, georgeous lies, getting high

This is what we live for.

We're baptized but we've tainted the water with our sins.

And we yell

We scream

To a god who hangs his head in shame

But the lights still advertise forgiveness

A forgiveness where hooking up on the side of the building is accepted

Where it's impossible to be rejected...

So we praise and we sing words that have no meaning and the Holy Spirit becomes the smoke exhaled through our lips.

We put more soul into a rap than into a god

But we sit alone at night and wonder where it all went wrong.

                   We are a lost generation of saved souls.