I’ve cut the wings deep to the bone
I see the hourglass below
I hear them coming down the road
The cover of midnight has me cold
The cloaked stranger waits for no one
Pleas are just wasted words
Shadows dance to the symphony of the souls beneath the earth
Harmed by desire, warned each time to stray from the cold
Plagued by the time you still see slipping into nothing
Second chances are false hopes before the hangman’s rope
A sight you’ll never want to know, the face of the death we owe

No one is ever exempt from the death we owe
No one is ever exempt from the death we owe

Here, second chances are false hope
See the silhouette of the hangman’s rope
It’s a place that you’ll never want to know
Everyone has to face the death we owe
Harmed by desire, warned each time to stray from the cold
Plagued by the time you still see slipping into nothing

Just one death we owe, from which no one’s exempt
And when that force takes hold, at least you’ll be on you own