Hey there,
On that cross,
With your breath turned sickly and stale.
Your eyes sunk back in your skull.
That disaster through your hands.
Hey there,
Little girl,
With that charm hanging down 'round your neck.
The damned are awash at your feet
And asleep in your dress.
There's a voice
In our ears
And its promise sits empty and bare.
It can change the look on a face.
Though it's not really there.
Now here
In the ground,
With our lids and breasts covered in dirt.
We can't seem to get to our feet.
We can't seem to breathe.
The dead sing along (sing along)
The dead sing along (sing along)
The dead sing along (sing along)
The dead sing along (sing along)
The dead sing along (sing along)
The dead sing along (sing along)
You can't be that boy (can't let it go)
You can't be that girl (can't let it go)
You can't be that voice (can't let it go)
You can't let it go.
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