With the motion of a bird with a broken wing
No place to prey on you for now
Hair-raising prospects and head-toned harmony
When the way is finally found
In the stacks and piles
Of dead promises we keep around
From the grotto haze the days will elevate
Mirror ruination to the daytime
From the bedlam block to the realtime rodeo
When the way is finally found
In the stacks and piles
Of dead promises we keep around
When the way is finally found
In the stacks and piles
Of dead promises that we keep around