The line of broken streetlights lit a faint shadow.
And smoke hung in the air like a welcome note to an old friend.
Tonight it seemed that even the blackest of hearts could grow,
and that morning was a distant memory.
So let's free this poisoned land,
burn it down like a house of cards.
Before the last thread disappears, the last memory erased.
And smoke hung in the air like a welcome note to an old friend.
Tonight it seemed that even the blackest of hearts could grow,
and that morning was a distant memory.
So let's free this poisoned land,
burn it down like a house of cards.
Before the last thread disappears, the last memory erased.
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