What to Make

Oh, momma what to make of my dreams
I, crawl into bed with awful things
And i tried so hard, to sleep so well
But something drags my mind to hell

Doctor, doctor, whats this sickness in the soul
That makes my friends grow so cold
What kind of love is so easily sold
I think its finally taken its toll

Tin man you speak of vacancy
But my friend your so naive
You've got more love than you could ever believe
And thats more than i can say for me

Oh, Darling how deep is your wound
Do you still believe that promises come true
I know it feels like you wont make it through
But what kind of God would abandon you

Oh, Jesus why must i sing
When i feel i've lost everything
I swam so far, but my body grew weak
So i close my eyes, and i Just sink