|
The rise and the fall. |
|
Dialect and different skill. |
|
Gripping my hand |
|
With every intention of breaking free. |
|
The roar of the crowd haults to the simple |
|
Echo of a beating heart. |
|
As we all attempted to exhale |
|
Our breathe just wouldnt leave our chest. |
|
One thousand dainty figures all lined up and linked |
|
Side to side by the arms. |
|
Each and every limb at our sides |
|
As if they were sleeping. |
|
The quarrel of all communication |
|
Being choked from our nerves. |
|
In the end of the bottom line we all anticipate |
|
The intense stabs of pins and needles. |
|
The roar of the crowd haults to the simple |
|
Echo of a beating heart. |
|
As we all attempted to exhale |
|
Our breathe just wouldnt leave our chest. |
|
Shake them off, |
|
Just to find a way to wake them up. |
|
To make them see what they are losing, |
|
Introduce what you have become. |
|
Show them where you're going. |
|
Struggle to fight the world |
|
Of everything you've ever wanted. |
|
Everything that you've ever wanted. |
|
The rise and the fall. |
|
Dialect and different skill. |
|
Gripping my hand |
|
With every intention of breaking free. |
|
The roar of the crowd haults to the simple |
|
Echo of a beating heart. |
|
As we all attempted to exhale |
|
Our breathe just wouldnt leave our chest. |
