Low Pop Suicide - Cult Of Love lyrics

Couldn't be made... Dirt like this Rather be the spit For a thirsty dog Shatter my veins The frozen blood won't feel As I scatter myself across Some summer field It's denial To believe in nothing No deals with faith And faith...alone Comfort is... As comfort does And comfort comes to those Who rise above Yes it does One thing for certain, Last time I checked, The cult of truth Fallen from its place Dress it up, And call it what you will There's a cult of love Standing on its face There's a cult of love... On its face...