| We are burning all the nightmares, |
| We are rising with the sun, |
| Now we all stand and face tomorrow, |
| For too long we’ve stood alone. |
| We are coming through the windows, |
| We are kicking down the doors, |
| Now we’ll no more embrace your darkness, |
| Your superstition’s yours alone. |
| So torturous, |
| The blade cuts deep, your tongue still bleeds, |
| Torturous, Remaining where you hang your prayer. |
| We are laughing in reflection, |
| We are setting fire to fear, |
| Now we’ll put our faith in no one, |
| We don’t your second chance. |
| We are giving rhyme not reason, |
| We don’t need to settle scores, |
| Now you can take or leave tomorrow, |
| Your superstition leaves you cold. Leaves you cold. |
| So torturous, |
| The blade cuts deep, your tongue still bleeds, |
| Torturous, Remaining where you hang your prayer. |