final appeal Chorus: The city lines are down The Kerosene's run out The fracturing of all we replied upon Let's shed this unclean skin And start to feel again
Awake at the bottom Of the barrels we cry out So ashamed of our tears That we blame only ourselves That's when they win, they keep us convinced To lift
the candles But not their tongues And too much blood has flown from the wrist Of children shamed for those they chose to kiss Who will rise to stop
Like a new day rising Like a calm before the storm Like fog lifting from valleys On the sleeping forest floor Eyes open slowly As the dust is shaken
Hey, man did you hear Your final days are near? A free fall of fire and ice And explosions in the sky A fate that we deserve There's no escaping No it
Block the entrances, close the doors Seal the exits, 'cause this is war All gave some, some gave all But for what? I wanna know Carry on, don't mind
Once upon a time I could take anything, anything Always stepped in time, regardless of the beat I moved my feet, I carried weight When I could not do
The pain, disorder, a cataclysmic dawn We trusted but something has gone wrong We bought it but woke to find it gone And have to 5, 4, 3, 2 The place
Do you see the world in different colors? Do you see the world in black and gray? Alone in your thoughts how many others have stood Where you stand, where
at night we're perspiring by candlelight We are the orphans of the American dreams Oh, shine your light on me She told me that she never would face the world again
I have my mother's dreams, I have my father's eyes You can't take that from me just go ahead and try The Crescent City sleeps while giants in the sky
Are there no fighters left here anymore? Are we the generation we've been waiting for? Are we patiently burning, waiting to be saved? Our heroes are
a final appeal The city lines are down The kerosene's run out The fact surreal, oh, we relied upon I shed the sun clean skin And start to feel again
. Gathering candles, but not their tongues. And too much blood has flown from the wrist, Of children shamed for those they chose to kiss. Who will rise
: I have my mother's dreams, I have my father's eyes, You can't take that from me, Just go ahead and try. The crescent city sleeps, While giants in the
: awake at the bottom of the barrels we cry out so ashamed of our tears that we blame only ourselves that's when they win they keep us convinced to lift
: Are there no fighters left here any more? Are we the generation we've been waiting for? Or are we patiently burning Waiting to be saved? Our heroes
