Have they killed the light in your soul?

Do you watch the black roses scream?

Do we live now in a blackhole?

Do we hope? Do we dream?

The meteors of our faith have burnt,

The silver lake of truth is hollow.

Tell me how many curses I have earned,

Give me the star that you all follow.



Make my ears deaf, my eyes bleed,

Hide me from the colours of doubt!

These sounds of blood I don’t need!

Give me away! Bring me out!



Slowly we must all lose our minds!

Paranoia is a pandemic disease.

Yes black roses come in all kinds,

Tie them on your hands and knees!



Put up my dreams on a weekend sale.

I’ll hide in the masks made of mud.

Blank pages and spiders look so pale,

Turn down the screaming sounds of blood!



Jon Foreman, burn down bridging fates!

Sisyphus give me your ****** stone!

Down the road we’ll find the crates,

In the sky the stones have cried alone.



Shadows painted in the sound of blood,

Blind me with the colours of doubts!

Empty tin drums grace the mud,

Give me away, bring me out!