This has all the makings of a catastrophic sequence
We're sifting through the wreckage and shedding our pretense
There's a certain friction between our ideals and what the motives mean
I could pick through every seam to find something to believe
And across the city sky, a storm is gathering strength
Thunder maims the air, disrupts the blanket of night
Do we duck for shelter or do we run into the arms
Of a falling summer rain and let it sate our thirst?
Let's dance on the graves of the mistakes we've put to rest
A eulogy for regret - no solace in death
What I know is what I feel. No truth beyond to conceal
And all of what I thought was real is rotting in an empty field