Bed of Rust

I'm sleeping on a bed of rust And I am breathing hard... And I am breathing hard Some times I feel I'm made of glass And still I breathing hard... And still I breathing hard I'm weakened by this heavy load And I want nothin' more... And I want nothin' more I'm empty cause I dug the hole And still I'm nothin' more... And still I'm nothin' more And the mud... in my mouth Starts to pour... while I'm speaking And I scrape... the mistakes From the thoughts... that's misleading I swear that all feel is doubt My life is made of sand... My life is made of sand Like Jesus kept temptations in It's falling through my hands... It's falling through my hands Underground... in the maze Where I carve... the excuses With the guilt... that I pull Out of skin... that I'm shedding And the mud... in my mouth Is still here... and still pouring And I choke... on the cross As I'm hangs... as I'm hangs