| Let's take back what's ours. | |
| Stabbed in the back, | |
| True to the grave. | |
| Take my hand in yours. | |
| Bleeding hearts, we're not alone. | |
| Stabbed in the back. | |
| True to the grave. | |
| Such hollow shells. | |
| A ghost of what was real. | |
| Such hollow shells. | |
| A ghost of what was real. | |
| Let's take back what's ours. | |
| Stabbed in the back. | |
| True to the grave. | |
| Take my hand in yours. | |
| Bleeding hearts, we're not alone. | |
| Stabbed in the back. | |
| True to the grave. | |
| Such hollow shells. | |
| A ghost of what was real. | |
| Such hollow shells. | |
| A ghost of what was real. | |
| It just recycles itself, | |
| Terror breeds terror. (x3) | |
| Meaning is lost for all who care. (x2) |
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