Choose your ghost to fall into,
Two clouds make a whole storm,
And the thunder will rumble,
As the lightening strikes,
Through the ground comes the faith you lost,
Wrap that faith around your neck,
Hope that God comes to save,
While you get thrashed against the floor,
You're screaming out for more,
And you or I stretched towards the ceiling,
Where the clouds formed the snow,
Inside your weathered room.

Nothing's gone right,
Mr. Lake is a figment of your imagination,
Poison boy keeps bothering you,
And Wool Kid's got his hood in your mouth.

You wanted to be a son,
A lamb of something so far, far away,
Of something you never believed to exist,
Yet here you lay, begging for forgiveness,
Knees to the ground and head tilted,
You were tired of rhymes and ***** bones,
Set fire, set fire, set fire to yourself,
I'm getting sick of pretending it wasn't so bad,
Cause I don't know where I'd be if I hadn't been so strange.

Nothing's gone right,
Mr. Lake is a figment of your imagination,
Poison boy keeps bothering you,
And Wool Kid's got his hood in your mouth.