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Description
if the world were covered in foam, would we all hide?
If it were covered in lies and disgrace, would we all be fine?
If there were no lies. No broken promises. No tears. No pain.
Would that be okay?

Or are we like robots.
Little tiny ones. Remembering to reboot and erase the broken memories.
The ones we repress. Our justice left, undone.

Where we stand in tunnels in the dark, and make friends with our shadows.
What is right? What is wrong?

If we were to release our broken selves, would we perish in the ashes that remain?
Would we smile as death took us to the better place.

Would we wake up and realize that we were worth everything?
And that pain, heartbreak, haunted shadows were only temporary?

Sure, we wanted to. We wanted to make the world shake with passion.
We wanted it to be so.

But it wasn't. Was it?

Blood along these crystal mirrors.

We break down.. Over, and over again.
And we get up. Why?
What's the use?

Why bother, when promises are broken. And the chains tighten around the wrist and neck.
Is this what they call living? We wish to make expectation.
Something to reach for.

But underneath the make-up and lies and the ice-cold stare..
Lays our own vulnerability.
We wish we could change it. Make a memory from broken ashes and red roses.

So when it rains down, we can remember that we lived.

Some say that's enough. But we don't know.
It may never be. And we may never know the pleasure of a kiss.
Planting our lies in this broken soil.

A soul of emptiness.
Thoughts are frozen beneath the chill..

When all we ever wanted..

Was to be..

Description
if the world were covered in foam, would we all hide?
If it were covered in lies and disgrace, would we all be fine?
If there were no lies. No broken promises. No tears. No pain.
Would that be okay?

Or are we like robots.
Little tiny ones. Remembering to reboot and erase the broken memories.
The ones we repress. Our justice left, undone.

Where we stand in tunnels in the dark, and make friends with our shadows.
What is right? What is wrong?

If we were to release our broken selves, would we perish in the ashes that remain?
Would we smile as death took us to the better place.

Would we wake up and realize that we were worth everything?
And that pain, heartbreak, haunted shadows were only temporary?

Sure, we wanted to. We wanted to make the world shake with passion.
We wanted it to be so.

But it wasn't. Was it?

Blood along these crystal mirrors.

We break down.. Over, and over again.
And we get up. Why?
What's the use?

Why bother, when promises are broken. And the chains tighten around the wrist and neck.
Is this what they call living? We wish to make expectation.
Something to reach for.

But underneath the make-up and lies and the ice-cold stare..
Lays our own vulnerability.
We wish we could change it. Make a memory from broken ashes and red roses.

So when it rains down, we can remember that we lived.

Some say that's enough. But we don't know.
It may never be. And we may never know the pleasure of a kiss.
Planting our lies in this broken soil.

A soul of emptiness.
Thoughts are frozen beneath the chill..

When all we ever wanted..

Was to be..