No, we're not leaving this world without a mark, a bruise upon it's face.
And if these feelings are wrong, I don't want to be right.
Now consequence and circumstance have become one in the same,
and our dreams have become the nightmares from which we never awake.
I'll never say I know what it's like to be the one to bow down
and let go of searching for something more than this.
I know what it's like to finally give up the ghost.
But I'm killing myself to stay alive.
You'll find no answers in a book. There's only solace, no resolve.
It's time we throw it to the wolves, or better yet,
we'll tear it up and burn it to the ground.
Speak for those without a voice.
Speak just what you feel inside.
Speak when there's no one to listen
and nothing is left to keep the dream alive.
There's some things we mustn't speak of. There's some things we'll never know,
like how can we be so cold, but still alive.
Now desperation and indulgence share a common place
in this world we created, in this world we destroy.
Oh, my god, where are you now? Oh, my god. Show yourself and we will show you hell.