Bitter

It tastes bitter like secondhand smoke
Like a crowded party or a poorly timed joke
Did I accept forgiveness or do I carry it around
All my bad excuses weigh me to the ground

Stained glass colors
Communion with strangers
Blood in a glass but it was wine to me

Oh how the apple broke off from the tree
Rolled down the hill and got lost at sea
I recognized you when you walked in the place
Because I’m good with faces but terrible with names

Stained glass colors
Sisters and brothers
Drinking wine in a glass but it was blood to me

Light can’t break through a hardened heart
But it probably could if I let it
And all my wounds turned into scars
So you know I won’t forget ‘em