| Faith we abate, a perfect design of which we deprecate
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| We can’t decipher this suppressive surge of desire
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| As I watch the hands of time cradle circumstance and consequence
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| I reiterate that the hourglass is near its end and depleting swiftly
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| Trace the edge along this line we drew within this narrow space
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| Memories I can’t recreate
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| Wreckage beyond what we could calculate
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| An affection that fluctuates
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| Familiar speech in a new tongue that I cannot translate
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| Who’s to say that our faith was kept in a safe place?
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| As we witness a weaker pulse and shallow breaths, the innocent fight
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| To take their life back, no surrender of light from their eyes
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| Perpetrator, give back what’s not yours to keep
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| Stolen destinations of contingency, ripped apart and vanishing
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| Memories I can’t recreate
|
| Wreckage beyond what we could calculate
|
| An affection that fluctuates
|
| Familiar speech in a new tongue that I cannot translate
|
| These wandering eyes provide confirmation of idle actions
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| Holding keys to open doors, we’re too afraid to enter
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| We scrutinize, but execution falls short
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| Disgust for lack of action
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| Cover your face with your hands and look away
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| Memories I can’t recreate
|
| Wreckage beyond what we could calculate
|
| An affection that fluctuates
|
| Familiar speech in a new tongue
|
| Memories I can’t recreate
|
| Wreckage beyond what we could calculate
|
| An affection that fluctuates
|
| Familiar speech in a new tongue that I cannot translate
|
| Perpetrator, give back what’s not yours to keep |