"I dance in the halls of the newly insane.
And pray to a god that is vacant again.
Dark is the shadow filled with predjudice, not pride.
Worn out, unwelcome,
his truth birthing lies.
A whisper now speaks what words used to say,
fallen from grace,
luster this way.
Burning bridges light my way.
(...)
And while the rain keeps coming down.
A rope of hopes too thin to climb.
The night is closing in.
We're down the bottom of the well.
Burning bridges light my way"