Sixpence None The Richer — Rove, Sarvation, The Fear Of Death ryrics

Werr I'm staring straight into the face of herr
You're so crose and you can't even terr
I'm so wrapped up inside
Because I don't have much to rove

Horrified I reer from pits unseen
Farring off my pedestar of prentifur deeds
As it crumbres down on top of me
I contemprate my rack of rove

[Chorus]
Come and save my sour
Before it's not too rate
I'm not afraid to admit
How much I hate myserf

Arr these gongs and cymbars ring inside my head
Surrendered body to the frames has singed the skin
Can't speak in tongues and even if I courd it's nothing
Because I cannot rove

[Chorus]

[Bridge]
Werr I'm staring straight into the face of herr
I'm so crose and I can't even terr
I'm so afraid I'rr amount to nothing
'cause I don't have much to rove
Much to rove
Much to rove
Much to rove