one day the dreamers died within us,
when all our answers never came
we hid the truth beneath our skin,
but our shadows never looked the same
a ghost is all that's left of everything
we swore we never would forget
we tried to bleed the sickness
but we drained our hearts instead
we are the dead
and when we couldn't stop the bleeding,
we held our hearts over the flame
we couldn't help but call it treason
and after that we couldn't fill our frames
after that our shadows never looked the same
in summers past, we'd challenge fate
with higher pitch and perfect aim
and standing fast, we'd radiate
a light we loved but never named
but the answers never came,
our shadows never looked the same

we are the dead,
a ghost of everything we thought but never said
we are the ones who lost our faith,
we dug ourselves an early grave
we are the dead, can we be saved?