You've done it this time haven't you–
You've scared off all the ghosts.
You've wasted all the men down on the splendid Western coast.

You've got your pair of eyes fixed
to the top of the Northern gate,
and you've made known your plight
to all the desperate herald saints.

You claim to be the furthest lost cause but
as far as I can see
you've done nothing
but follow the law.

You're ready now, you're ready now,
You're a martyr and it's of your own divine making.

You're a myth,
and not the kind that was intended to be kind.
You're a fiction babe,
time burns away while you tighten your soft eyes.
You were born
at the end of everything. Though,
you've seemed to take a special trip back to slyly embrace me.

But I'm taking you down with me,
O–when I go.



You claimed to be that single one sent to please
the brokenhearted, did you single out me?

You're a myth you made yourself up to be.
But like I said I'm taking you down with me.

O–here I go.