Quiet clicks and the sound of his breathing
Tired fingers ache
He says: "My addiction is all I am proud to believe in" and lingers awake
And the thicker his skin, the worse it burns
His [bad word] wings will fail
An indicative fling turns to a curse
And he sees everything through a veil
All to no avail, what's the use
To surrender and pour your heart out
If it gets abused by an army of strangers
Chopped to pieces and carved out
The knife might as well be real
When it twists inside his wound
He was tied down long ago and can't feel
What it's like not to live in a tomb
People have tendency to point and assume
And to avoid what is doomed to despondent failure
Better cast it aside before it can bloom
That night was the tipping point
To [bad word] a man and get pushed right back
Dropped down from the arms of his savior
Everything changed, just like that

Leave all hope behind the sun
Leave all hope behind the sun

The morning froze my steaming breath
And no one knows, they dream in stead
My palms are hot, I've seen it all
No qualms, just a plot and its repeated call
My force is great, it's orchestrated morbid ways to imagine
No more [bad word]  forced and labored
Wars to attain attachment
To anything, I am setting myself free, and letting them know
There's only one purpose I serve now: to be ready to go
I am [bad word] legend, I am [bad word] fiction
story that only has an end
I only wish I could see it be written
But my kind will know me as a king
Slowly I begin, the moment [bad word] [bad word] for your life, I'm giving you a head start
And start with a backwards count
From 10 to 1, time to get smart

Leave all hope behind the sun
Leave all hope your time [bad word] 

Now they all explain and try [bad word] his decisive moods in [bad word] phrases and look dismayed when the [bad word] eludes them
Maybe it was always in him or maybe it was all just a mood swing
Some lady on the radio said we got lucky we only had to lose ten
As things have turned out
From official statements to word of mouth
The invisible ones you don't learn about
Sometimes won't turn around
At the final minute, or the sight of pain
chaos of pleading voices
When the mind [bad word] to blind disdain
It's deaf to reason or choices
You'll never know more about the world than you did at 17, a grown up kid
Children have slid far from the days
Of innocent play, and they're harder to raise
Yet who here would take a hold of us
Who would be bold enough and willing to admit
That no one is ever old enough
To keep their heads all happy and fit
Most who have grown here don't stick around
They escape the unbearable weight
And all that's left now are cuts in the ground
Another empty slate
And his steps disappear with the melting snow
There's a puddle on the doorstep
To accept this fear is a terrible blow
If we don't, we have lost it