Desperate decay and decadence.
the price we paid for innocence.
push the knife, don't forget to twist.
in spite of everything these wounds will heal with bitterness.
in the dead of night i seem to find
the time that sat as idle as the ground beneath my feet.
why is it that the only ones that care to speak to me
are the lost souls of our lonely streets.
they say to me,
"what do you know about the weight of defeat?
or how hard it is to hold your head up high
when all you loved is all you sacrificed?"
we've got a lot to learn.
you have to play with fire to get burned.
because win or lose, when we walk away,
we'll still ask ourselves,
"was it worth the price that we paid?"