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There is blood on my hands, but there is a reason for what we've done. |
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don't look back on all the problems its caused, the problems that we've solved |
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will justify. so turn a blind eye. |
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oh god! why have you forsaken us? these illusions make for such great escapes! |
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though every synapse leads to something great |
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we fear the means which hope does not stray |
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away from my body. take me away from this place, and i'll follow you to the end! |
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and we're here pounding on these walls but noone hears your cries. |
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lord we wait for your return! |
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we've lost our way! we dig our own graves! |
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this is a place of broken hearts and broken dreams. and its killing me to watch it bleed. |
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still pounding on these walls, and there is nothing new. have we bled ourselves dry? |
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our own tounges deceive us! we dig our own graves! |
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and it wont be long, it wont be long. we wait for your return. |
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our tounges are tied, we are decieved! |
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we are decieved by the grace of man, |
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and can we be redeemed? |
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our hearts grow cold, |
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but oursalvation lies just past the waters edge! |
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can these soiled hands hold me up in time for you to return? |
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o how thou art destroyed, o city renown |
