| Giving up slowly — underneath the weight of this world
|
| Shedding my white wings
|
| Watching as the halo burns
|
| If I scream out, striking out, die out
|
| Always going haunting, from a
|
| In the end
|
| When we’ve lost our only trust
|
| We’ll turn from angels into dust
|
| Till there is nothing, nothing left of us
|
| I can hear them — voices from a thousand years
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| Uninvited, living in between my tears
|
| If I scream out, striking out, die out
|
| Always going haunting, from a
|
| In the end
|
| When we’ve lost our only trust
|
| We’ll turn from angels into dust
|
| Till there is nothing, nothing left of us
|
| In the end
|
| When we’ve lost our only trust
|
| We’ll turn from angels into dust
|
| Till there is nothing
|
| In the end
|
| When we’ve lost our only trust
|
| We’ll turn from angels into dust
|
| Till there is nothing, nothing left of us
|
| And in sign of who we are
|
| We’ll turn from dust into the stars
|
| Till there is nothing, nothing left of us
|
| The project is in motion
|
| All is as you have foreseen, of course
|
| There is however a small matter of hybrid
|
| She is unpredictable and seems to be outside of your influence in some way
|
| We must end her |