History has drawn these lines across my face
With bones through flesh, and will it always be this way?
A change of hands again, clandestine operative
You gun me down when I've got nothing left to give
A tragedy is written
Inked in red
Words bleed onto pages
I try to raise the dead
I count the dying hours underneath the burning skies
I'm running through the forests in the dead of night
Each way I turn I'm searching for a guiding light
But there just don't seem to be any signs of life
So here I go again, I'm crawling on my knees
Through the jagged era of uncertainty
With my incompetence, it's painted on my face
And I am left here wondering when I'll leave this place
I count the dying hours underneath the burning skies
I'm running through the forests in the dead of night
Each way I turn I'm searching for a guiding light
But there just don't seem to be any signs of life
Woah, as it seems that this life is waking dream
Ohh, as it seems that this life is waking dream
I count the dying hours underneath the burning skies
I'm running through the forests in the dead of night
Each way I turn I'm searching for a guiding light
But there just don't seem to be any signs of life
