How long do you think these times will last
Before we become total strangers?
The prophets are dead
In our hands they rust

I know we've promised
I know we've lied
Hell, our voices sounded much better
Divided we sink, together we rise

This costume will have to look good on me
Before I die
There's no award, no reciprocity
In all we try

Nothing seems clear
I can't sleep
You know I'm not the one encouraging prayers
But please join your hands and make this one the last

This costume will have to look good on you
And if the ridicule kills
We’ll die facing the laughters
I’m just sick of them all
Sick of confusion, certitude and norms
I guess the shadow is a good place to hide
Let's turn on the lights
I’m just sick of them all
And we can be more
We can be more, I know

My hand in your hand
And the world to grasp
Something made it holy
And in a way we liked that
There was truth inside our silence
And anger in our eyes

For every step there is a doubt
And understand it’s ours to fight
So keep my hand in yours and yours in mine
For we’ll make it if we try
It’s us against ourselves and the rest can fucking die

I’m just sick of them all
And we can be more
We can be more, I know

The ceiling rains down on us
And it weights on the rich, the poor and all in between
Nothing is sacred
Nothing but the hands that protect
And i protect you
And you protect me
We had been dreaming in the shape of a nutshell
And in the fortune boat we’d have secured them all
We set sails away from the sharks

This costume will have to look good on all of us
Before it dies