Stigmata - The Weeks

Well, I met the man who took my mother

He put holes inside her arms

No, they were not marks of stigmata, lord

Just a drug pumping empty heart

Well, I met the man who took my father

Put him in jail and locked him away

Well, they say he forgot his children lord

He might remember us again someday

Well, I met the man who killed my grandmother

He took her mind as the shotgun blew

A year later my grandfather followed her

He’d had enough and shot himself too

Well, I met the man who took my good friend

Oh, When he was only seventeen

I saw him laying in a cushioned coffin lord

It wasn’t him staring back at me

I blame the devil, what else could it be

I blame Jesus he ain’t answering me

Don’t call me depressed, don’t call me sad

I’m giving up on this life I had

I blame the devil, what else could it be

I blame Jesus he ain’t answering me

Don’t call me depressed, don’t call me sad

I’m giving up on this life I had

I met the man who raped my childhood

Oh but we were never young it’s true

But when everyone around you keeps dying lord

What the hell are we supposed to do

Well, I met the man who took my sister

In a new family she will stay

And it’s true that my mother’s a sinner lord

She let another family fade away

I blame the devil, what else could it be

I blame Jesus he ain’t answering me

Don’t call me depressed, don’t call me sad

I’m giving up on this life I had

I blame the devil, what else could it be

I blame Jesus he ain’t answering me

Don’t call me depressed, don’t call me sad

I’m giving up on this life I had

I blame the devil