| We came through hate, hellfire and war
|
| (Viva utopya)
|
| In search of truth not metaphor
|
| (Viva utopya)
|
| Pure hearts reign supreme
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| But dreams are only dreams
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| The bell is ringing
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| (Hey)
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| This mus be the place
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| Where all woes are erased
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| A fanfare for us as we arrived
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| (Tyrannicum!)
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| It feels like we’ve been blessed
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| The wistful dispossessed
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| We knew how lost we were when we found paradise
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| We came in peace but sadly saw
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| (Viva utopya)
|
| Perfection is so cruelly flawed
|
| (Viva utopya)
|
| In the cold light the cracks are clear
|
| (Viva utopya)
|
| This paradise becomes austere
|
| (Viva utopya)
|
| (Hey)
|
| This must be the place
|
| Where myths disintegrate
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| They burnt your journals and laughed at mine
|
| (Tyrannicum!)
|
| Imprisoned in white robes
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| The ghost of all our hopes
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| We count the cost of wasting trust on humankind
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| Pure hearts will still beat
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| But dreams aren’t always sweet
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| There’s nothing saintly here
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| In this oppressed frontier
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| At least my love, we know that we tried
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| The chants are getting loud
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| The creeping speed of sound
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| The mob appears as i dry your eyes
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| (Tyrannicum!)
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| We face our destiny
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| Through strength of memory
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| The voyage will not end if our twin spirits fly |