We're starving artists wrapped around your finger,
held in contempt by judgmental hate and greed.
With the past turning into a future designated
with bullet holes and bitter symphonies.

Every lie written through the airwaves is another drama tale
behind whispered words of confusion, next to the sidewalks, behind closed eyes.
Besides the anger in the ink are histories and false illusions
that plague the conversations we perceive when this day dies.

Trust lies inside the bottle caps,
rests in peace inside the grave of deceased families,
dies with every sunrise.
Love is soon replaced by animosity
with last years hopes and missing car keys,
taken by unfaithful cries.

And when you open your eyes, you would see that you're a liar
with compulsive waves of fire
burning our last hopes away.
We can try our hardest to avoid the sore precision
of inaccurate decisions.
I know you'll never change.

Faith dies when we wake up to a shrieking wave of pressure in our minds,
one step closer to heart attack.
Any chance of survival is swept away by new homes and a new heart.
Turn around, take two steps back.

And when this war is over,
I will look over my shoulder.
I have no regrets;
I don't take back a single word.
But every truth I whisper
is a dancer in the moonlight,
dancing to the lines of every fight.
Everything I ever said you never heard.