(It's the path to healing)
(Don't even get me started)
(I'm not even tripping on that)
(I had it going for me, until I lost it)
Everyone is a saint
Or they stop to do nothing
The pretty pictures you paint
Tortured view from the outside
Heard you calling a real doctor
To wash your hands in the sink
Friends caught in your back pocket
And a really big sting
Writing sermons of pain
Laces dipped in peroxide
You should go on a date
Suss it out with some hot lights
Call me out on my bad posture
Or call it something you made
Seven dollars to clear the air
You left a really big stain
With a golden fleece
You don't have to stand down
On the trampoline
(Trample it)
Trample it
The suffering in your heart
(There's so much to express)
Everyone is a saint
Or they stop to do nothing
The pretty pictures you paint
Tortured view from the outside
Call me out on my bad posture
Or call it something you made
Seven dollars to clear the air
You left a really big stain
With a golden fleece
You don't have to stand down
On the trampoline
(Trample it)
Trample it
The suffering in your heart
Swan Circus - EVERY 1 IS A SAINT Lyrics
Swan Circus - EVERY 1 IS A SAINT Lyrics
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(It's the path to healing)
(Don't even get me started)
(I'm not even tripping on that)
(I had it going for me, until I lost it)
Everyone is a saint
Or they stop to do nothing
The pretty pictures you paint
Tortured view from the outside
Heard you calling a real doctor
To wash your hands in the sink
Friends caught in your back pocket
And a really big sting
Writing sermons of pain
Laces dipped in peroxide
You should go on a date
Suss it out with some hot lights
Call me out on my bad posture
Or call it something you made
Seven dollars to clear the air
You left a really big stain
With a golden fleece
You don't have to stand down
On the trampoline
(Trample it)
Trample it
The suffering in your heart
(There's so much to express)
Everyone is a saint
Or they stop to do nothing
The pretty pictures you paint
Tortured view from the outside
Call me out on my bad posture
Or call it something you made
Seven dollars to clear the air
You left a really big stain
With a golden fleece
You don't have to stand down
On the trampoline
(Trample it)
Trample it
The suffering in your heart
(Don't even get me started)
(I'm not even tripping on that)
(I had it going for me, until I lost it)
Everyone is a saint
Or they stop to do nothing
The pretty pictures you paint
Tortured view from the outside
Heard you calling a real doctor
To wash your hands in the sink
Friends caught in your back pocket
And a really big sting
Writing sermons of pain
Laces dipped in peroxide
You should go on a date
Suss it out with some hot lights
Call me out on my bad posture
Or call it something you made
Seven dollars to clear the air
You left a really big stain
With a golden fleece
You don't have to stand down
On the trampoline
(Trample it)
Trample it
The suffering in your heart
(There's so much to express)
Everyone is a saint
Or they stop to do nothing
The pretty pictures you paint
Tortured view from the outside
Call me out on my bad posture
Or call it something you made
Seven dollars to clear the air
You left a really big stain
With a golden fleece
You don't have to stand down
On the trampoline
(Trample it)
Trample it
The suffering in your heart
Writer: Natasha Bailey
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid