We're dying but we cannot die.
The tales that we wrote were much greater than us.
This is not the new start we thought we fought for. It's the finishing words,
the finishing words of a final chapter.
The veins in your arms,
like branches they stretch out, like the roads on a map.
The veins in your arms, they lead to your heart,
but they're not bringing me home.
We're dying but we cannot die.
The tales that we wrote were much greater than us.
This is not the new start we thought we fought for. It's the finishing words,
the finishing words of a final chapter.
The tales that we wrote were much greater than us.
This is not the new start we thought we fought for. It's the finishing words,
the finishing words of a final chapter.
The veins in your arms,
like branches they stretch out, like the roads on a map.
The veins in your arms, they lead to your heart,
but they're not bringing me home.
We're dying but we cannot die.
The tales that we wrote were much greater than us.
This is not the new start we thought we fought for. It's the finishing words,
the finishing words of a final chapter.