Spoiled children soon to fall Freedom is the lie we live And scatter helpless to the fire Sorry for the things we've seen When all our toys are burning All these empty urges must be satisfied Precious strength to turn the game to history Giving up, I'm blown away The final days have come and gone Safe inside; thereâ"š¬â"ž¢s nothing wrong Could it be way over my head? Could it be way over my head? Could it be way over my head? Lies so forced in bored control It learned all that it cares to know