The Process - Sullivan

Break the code of silence

Forget your conscience

And baby, you’ll be fine

Grab a book of matches

Half-empty gas can

And get these hands untied

You made me who I am

Blame it all on the process, darling

Draw my blood from stone

Sorry about the mix up, sweetie

But this had to be said

You made me who I am

Lift your broken posture

Reset your shoulder

And plant you in the soil

I recall the moment

That I first struck and

Your twisted limbs recoiled

You made me who I am

Blame it all on the process, darling

Draw my blood from stone

Sorry about the mix up, sweetie

But this had to be said

You made me who I am

You think you’ve seen the worst of me

Well think again

You made me who I am

Your body slumps over a hole I dug for when

You made me who I am