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Mutilated images, it looks the same, feels the
Pointing at you again can't help myself you how?
Where is our path? not a phase, it will come back again
As soon as you what is your excuse?
The is a lack of existence

In time heal all open wounds
we'll remain the puppeteers
Open up the doors, lock up behind us
Blended by the light as the worlds collide

We'll feed the storm again stole my sight
fall into the same cycling game again
It's not a phase bring world to an end

As the strife your eye
We our masquerade
Through the days of convicted
The action fades

As the countdown the end
And light starts to burn
We remain the puppeteers
too late to make a turn

We'll the storm again, beauty stole my sight
We'll into the same, cycling game again
It's not a bring this world to an end