Текст песни Prophets — Greedy Hands

I can't seem to place my finger on why I've become this way
Was it my sheltered youth or did I just never hear the truth
Greedy pockets, empty hands and empty hearts
Well I was too young to know that I was force fed the good book
Reciting words that I never meant
I am the victim of false pretence and an advocate for regret
I am the bastard son of truth
But a voice for all the youth
Everyday we pay for our own graves
But I'd rather spend it on my living days
Every day we dig in to our pockets to pay for our own graves
When faith fails you, you'll see life through my eyes.