Scatter the routes of our passage tonight Discard the memories we chose to survive All of our sense overshadowed by song Mining for strength and reprieve from the strong
When she was five years old there’s cake and bright lights And when she was ten, she became a maid’s bride With temperance and beauty and salvation unknown A life isolated, heinous and Young
Stand up and face it although you’re half dead Try to remember though they’ve taken your head Why we sleep fully dressed and rise early from bed Who did this to us? Who did this to us?
So partial to memory, the pearls of our dead But where do we keep them, put them here by the steps While I climb to the top and find where I am