| Pry the darkness from my eyes.
|
| Divided, let the light seep in.
|
| Trees devoid of branches and hollow hives.
|
| An endless black and empty beds.
|
| It’s not the same, something’s changed.
|
| I never used to be able to see past the trees.
|
| A thousand unfamiliars are lying thick on the air and I can’t breathe.
|
| Is our skin to keep the world out or our bodies in?
|
| This doesn’t look like home; |
| this doesn’t look like home.
|
| Is our skin to keep the world out or our bodies in?
|
| I’ll tear apart the town then sleep, and sleep alone.
|
| If I’m a flame, I’m a forest fire speaking savage tongues as I emerge from the
|
| hills.
|
| I am an avalanche.
|
| I am unchained.
|
| I’m awoken.
|
| I’ll unleash hell.
|
| So I roar, pin back my ears, and stone by stone I’ll tear it all,
|
| I’ll tear it apart.
|
| Is our skin to keep the world out or our bodies in?
|
| This doesn’t look like home; |
| this doesn’t look like home.
|
| Is our skin to keep the world out or our bodies in?
|
| (This doesn’t look like home; this doesn’t look like home.)
|
| I’ll tear apart the town then sleep, and sleep alone.
|
| (This doesn’t look like home; this doesn’t look like home.)
|
| I’ve lost faith, the forest’s changed.
|
| My stomach’s empty, I’m feeling faint.
|
| I’ve lost heart, the forest’s scarred.
|
| I hear no birds, just TVs and cars.
|
| I’ve lost faith, the forest’s changed.
|
| My stomach’s empty, I’m feeling faint.
|
| I’ve lost sight, the forest’s died.
|
| The brambles are bare, and I’m hollow inside.
|
| Each breath rattles like dice in my chest, each breath gambled, unwinding till
|
| death.
|
| Is our skin to keep the world out or our bodies in?
|
| This doesn’t look like home; |
| this doesn’t look like home.
|
| Is our skin to keep the world out or our bodies in?
|
| (This doesn’t look like home; this doesn’t look like home.)
|
| I’ll tear apart the town then sleep, and sleep alone.
|
| (This doesn’t look like home; this doesn’t look like home.) |