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