I'm looking at a face, a pointed chin
Towards the sky in arrogance
It easily betrays the closest friend
A moment lost, no consequence
A circle starts again, away from you
Deception pulls us in, away from you
Away from you, away from you
A pretty fake, but counterfeit
An empty carcass behind the artist
Is there a trait of innocence?
So how do you portray a sentiment?
And much to our dismay, they're ignorant
The more that we make up the more it fits
A circle starts again, away from you
Deception pulls us in, away from you
Away from you, away from you
A pretty fake, but counterfeit
An empty carcass behind the artist
Is there a trait of innocence?
Feels like everything's further away
Hindsight, watching another mistake
We never feel right, warm night
Dead as the street light, pure white
A pretty fake, but counterfeit
An empty carcass behind the artist
Is there a trait of innocence? More from The Birthday Massacre