Shadows settle on the place, that you left. Our minds are troubled by the emptiness. Destroy the middle, it's a waste of time. From the perfect start to the finish line.
And if you're still breathing, you're the lucky ones. 'Cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs. Setting fire to our insides for fun Collecting names of the lovers that went wrong The lovers that went wrong.
We are the reckless, We are the wild youth Chasing visions of our futures One day we'll reveal the truth That one will die before he gets there.
And if you're still bleeding, you're the lucky ones. 'Cause most of our feelings, they are dead and they are gone.