dead men don't sing to the world
no one can hear them against the winds
Their is the land of ash and dust
nobody is awake at the gates to take them in

dead people don't knock on no doors
they don't have our walls to keep them from being freed
it is not true what they say in old lores
they have no souls so that their heart could bleed

silence is not peace, I know you have never wondered
'tis but a disease, old and rotten not breathing anymore

there are places where when one shall go will always wander
even the deceased, who once had ones worth living for

upon the night darkness weaves an hideous potrait
showing a face and keeping stars from fading away
all who are lost can be more than just be in a cage
you wouldn't know how many dead men you've seen today,


take a look in the mirror.