The skeletons of old

Their bones broken and cold

And the lies of the stories we've told

Does anyone know anything?

What do they see

When they look at us?

Are they ashamed

Of what we've become?

And how will we be remembered?

And what will they say our story tells?

There's no guarantee

We'll be remembered at all

And what happens when we're dead?

What do our headstones say?

What will become of our glory days?

Or will we die alone and unnoticed?

The battlefields of late

And the black iron gates

That guard the way to hell

And steal your soul to sell

And the frigid, stale air

And all the eyes of those who don't care

And all the voices of those who pretend they do

And the cool, marble stone

What will we become in years after?

Will anyone stop and visit me in the cemetery?

Or am I already six feet under

Wasting the life you tried to save?

Why is it we only learn when it's too late?

What lives will they think up for us?

What stories will they tell?

Or will they spend their time on someone else?

Freeze my spirit in the hourglass' sand

Uncurl the fingers in your hand

And drop the fiery brand you carry

And lay down in the bed of the weary

And there's nothing left for us to do

But watch eternity spin its lies

There's nothing left to do…

There's nothing we can do…

We fade to black and whisper goodbye

Because it's all we can do

But that's alright

Because we know the truth

And I guess I still have you

To remember me for who I was

And I guess there's no point in fighting

A battle that was never ours

And the tickets have all sold out

Why do I still care?

Why do you still scream for the injustice done onto me

And to the rest of this damned world?

Why had our fate already been sealed

Before we had a chance to grow up?

And before we had a chance to live?

They had already known what our headstones would say

Before we were even born