| Looking back with perfect symmetry
|
| Mistakes were you, mistakes were me
|
| Photos fall through the glass
|
| Paint it black to hide your face
|
| Static screams deaf the masses
|
| But what do you have to say?
|
| Fan the flames to the landslide
|
| Crown yourself in the wake
|
| We play this disaster
|
| Fanfare, fanfare, liar
|
| Concrete eyes and flash bang imagery
|
| You’re bored with home, you’re bored with me
|
| Rings were thrown out the window
|
| Rolled down empty streets
|
| Walls will talk for the widow
|
| But what does she have to say?
|
| Fan the flames to the landslide
|
| Crown yourself in the wake
|
| We play this disaster
|
| Fanfare, fanfare, liar
|
| It comes, pulls the stakes up
|
| You hold back, roll back and slid the ring off your finger
|
| Throw it as hard as you could at a wall
|
| Your eyes blink too many times before they tear
|
| Run away from it before it comes too real to hide from
|
| Loneliness and boredom start turning into anger and then hate
|
| And melodies begin to escape
|
| You hold back, roll back and give in, and it starts all over, and then
|
| Fan the flames to the landslide
|
| Crown yourself in the wake
|
| We play this disaster
|
| Fanfare, fanfare, liar
|
| Edges dulled at the end of the day
|
| Edges dulled at the end of the day
|
| Edges dulled at the end of the day |