It's time to turn to the beating of our hearts sitting on the sidewalks,
rolling deeper towards the crowded streets and there is no recollection,
no memory of losing or stepping on the lonesome mindset of what is not the truth.
Burning bridges with a candle, with a match,
with a little bit of antipathy within our pockets.
I could break these walls, these barriers that line this city,
line the belief that our personal reflection can ever learn to exist.

This is the today before tomorrow
and the world will end and we will cry
for the forgiveness of never losing our sorry lives.
This is an anecdote for antonyms
and the antagonist won in the end of the story of our lives.
This is just a story, this is the next best thing.

We can all wake up sitting on the ceiling
with our heads hanging low to the ground
and our beliefs will be crushed
but we're in no hurry to make time slow down.
If we're only just a poor solution to a problem we never had
then how can we turn a dime into a dozen
to break the patterns of the tyrrany?

Every morning is the same,
wake up and wish you never came
to realize who you truly are beneath your skin.
You can lie and say you're not afraid
but you know it's not better off this way
'cos you've painted your soul black to erase the past you knew in earlier time.

(This is not a tale of hearts of angst to turn their face to the crowd,
to spill a plasma shield of emptiness.
No story can compare to the story of your life if you're willing to share
everything you thought you knew to other souls who wouldn't care).

This is the today before tomorrow
and the world will end and we will cry
for the forgiveness of never losing our sorry lives.
This is an anecdote for antonyms
and the antagonist won in the end of the story of our lives.
This is just a story, this is the next best thing.

This is our story, we are just the next best thing.