The smoke from all the bridges we burnt, 
Pollute and burn our lungs, 
We'll run on empty hearts,
And rotting legs, 
This isn't the worst it could have come to, 
Ashes gather in our hair, 
Heavy winds picked it up, 
It travels with us now, 
Our past, has become us, 
Destruction, our past is destruction
it has become us, 
And now we fall, down rabbit holes, 
Onto rotting corpses, 
Into the arms of forgotten evil, 
Blinded by the smoke of the comforting drugs, 
And we breathe blood. 
This is us. 
We are destruction.