Convulsive state away from files of tricks they hide from our unholy eyes
We start to home these stalks and wicked unread books whose sun will burn those lies
All rise to the hum of sadness and sighs

Emulsive state in play I see no need to hide from their unworthy eyes
I start to slur my talks and vivid unsaid thoughts whose sun will burn those ties

The false side of hope, back up your soul

All rise to the hum of sadness and sighs

The false side of hope, back up your soul
The false side of hope, back up your soul