| It’s the consequence of privileged information
|
| You can run, you can hide
|
| But light will find a way
|
| And wither away
|
| Haunted and haunting, we all are followed
|
| By shadows from martyrs and mercenaries
|
| Diseased by information
|
| Plagued by what we know
|
| Burn the evidence; |
| It’s enough to make a case
|
| It’s enough to incriminate
|
| Down the empty corridor to the coroner
|
| (It's clear, you’ve got what they want, and they’ll find you)
|
| Haunted and haunting, we are followed by shadows
|
| Plagued by what we know
|
| Burn the evidence; |
| It’s enough to make a case
|
| It’s enough to incriminate
|
| It’s just a matter of time before they find, find out
|
| It’s just a matter of time, young man
|
| (Her fingers, like spiders
|
| Spun a web my body couldn’t shed)
|
| Burn the evidence; |
| It’s enough to make a case
|
| It’s enough to incriminate
|
| It’s just a matter of time before they find, find out
|
| It’s just a matter of time, young man |