Our empty hearts won"t connect,
And I"m sending the signal to the stars.

The tribe of sounds invading the silence,
Ripping the fabric of night like it"s paper.
My tiny voice and the void of my face,
Fused with the polyphonic vapour.

The tears I"m crying are dry and plastic.
I am a doll. I"ve no past and no future.
I am a fake, a child of the wasteland;
I know no feeling that could be mutual.

And yet I stand with my eyes wide open,
Gazing up to where we belong.
I may be shredded, I may be broken,
Still, my lips are forming a song.