Throes Of Dawn We Have Ways To Hurt You
Another me
Another you
We wear the best of our masks
in this masquerade
Of the all-lost emotion
of all decay
We stand apart
Infected by the sick world
in satin longues
in velvet rooms
the symptoms growing worse
Camouflaged
among the empty
Court jesters
Lost kings
This is life
This is life
This is life
We take from you
