This house haunts itself at midnight in the phantom atmosphere
bringing suicidal, certain fronts of mayhem in the dark.
These shadows hold a secret that no one knows or cares about,
a message of uncertainty written in the dying sparks.
Your hidden lies are a voucher for my misery, it's no surprise
while I'm picking up the pieces of a life I wish I had.
I'm drowning in the spirit of losing everything or nothing
in the heart of which I'm facing who I truly am.
The sun has set to hide the truth behind your darkened eyes.
The reality of irony is that nothing will ever change.
And these kids write their songs about burning cities down
but if I decide to torch this house, I hope you perish in the flames.