Lies turn to blood. Twisting and turning his sword.

Lightning pierces the dark but relics remain unharmed.

 

We are the children who buried your favorite bright stars.

We are your future so listen to us.

 

You should run for he’ll kill your god with no regard.

You must run for here comes the mob out from the dark,

straight to your heart.

 

Flowers turn to mud. A crusader has forged his march.

Fire burns throughout but the snake remains unharmed.

 

We are the children who buried your favorite bright stars.

We are your future so listen to us.

 

You should run for he’ll kill your god with no regard.

You must run for here comes the mob out from the dark, 

straight to your heart.

 

I don’t see you.  You don’t see me.  

 

You should run for he’ll kill your god with no regard.

You must run for here comes the mob out from the dark straight to your heart.