So is this,
our last ballad?
Our love is,
an animal locked up.

Skin is cold,
room is quiet.
All we hold,
is our own hearts,
in our hands.

Do we feast or famine?
Do we unite,
or say goodbye?

Is there love here?
Enough to sustain?
Are you afraid dear,
that with the outcome will be pain?

Do we feast or famine?
Do we unite,
or say goodbye?
Do we fear the phantoms,
of our past?
We will crash,
and burn.