| During the laceration | |
| All you want to do is cry | |
| But it laughs at realisation | |
| How quickly fresh blood dries | |
| Needs no explanation | |
| It's gonna take a lot of time | |
| Ideas above our station | |
| And over the fog in my mind | |
| When I see I see my signs | |
| And it's the same face | |
| Presenting the same lie | |
| If you keep walking sideways, | |
| If you keep changing your mind | |
| Always the same face | |
| Presenting the same lie | |
| If you keep sideways | |
| If you keep changing your mind | |
| When I see, I see my signs | |
| When I see, I see my signs | |
| Obsolete, your voices are | |
| They say, silence, it sometimes pays | |
| In war, silence, it sometimes pays | |
| They say, silence, it sometimes pays | |
| In war, silence, it sometimes pays | |
| Souls and windows, stops existing | |
| Holes where his eyes used to be | |
| Needle and thread hold together | |
| His love for the dead, all new savior | |
| Saw the seashore, unfamilar | |
| The water and oil, unfamiliar | |
| Success and toil, unfamiliar | |
| Unaccustomed, unfamiliar |
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