| We were torn limb from limb.
|
| Let this be known as our battle-hymn.
|
| Our spirits rise from our shattered remains.
|
| No bones to speak of, but the passion retains.
|
| We have died and returned as a phantom.
|
| Nothing can stop our push for power.
|
| The asphalt stained a shade of red.
|
| We never would have thought that we were dead.
|
| We won’t rise from the ashes, but we’ll rise from our hopes.
|
| The afterlife means we reign as ghosts.
|
| Black smoke drowned out a birth to the obscene.
|
| The critics tried to suffocate the flames with gasoline.
|
| Smoke and flames couldn’t stop us now.
|
| We will forever live on to haunt this town.
|
| We have died and returned as a phantom.
|
| Nothing can stop our push for power.
|
| The asphalt stained a shade of red.
|
| We never would have thought that we were dead.
|
| We won’t rise from the ashes, but we’ll rise from our hopes.
|
| The afterlife means we reign as ghosts.
|
| The asphalt stained a shade of red.
|
| We never would have thought that we were dead.
|
| We won’t rise from the ashes, but we’ll rise from our hopes.
|
| The afterlife means we reign as ghosts. |