We're counting down the miles to nowhere,
We're so confused, so tired of glory;
We've lost our wit, we went the wrong way,
It was the end of a happy story.

The space within us is filled with nothing,
And nothing's left within our lives;
We came from chaos, pure and happy,
But then we hurry, suffer, die.

The eternal fragrance of deep silence
Is what we await each day;
We seek the fondness in the violence,
We love how bleeding victims pray.

Some broken hearts seem to be hollow;
This emptiness is a god for us;
Wherever we hide, it shall follow,
And find us, and then turn to dust.