I'm sick of the dead horse.

He rides around, laughing at pictures tearing them down.

I go to pick them up, but the faces blur and look ashamed. 
 

In the dark room, where the colors are made.

Secrets invade this red light.

In the basement, where the graves are made.

Secrets populate the night. 
 

Pass out, from the overload meltdown.

Water that burns, in between where the cogs turn. 
 

I'm sick of the dead horse.

He rides around, slashing the architecture turning it to soot.

Where my skins bathes, longing to look for the blurred faces. 
 

Dead arms lower the curse no soul gets out.

Invisible red light, secret today.

Over the rainbows of steel and rage.

Believe peace in the cage. 
 

Ceiling the understanding in, with acid rain.

Burning together never to separate. 
 

The bars of this rotten cage. 
 

Seal inside my eyes, you look strange today.

Scar you left, when I witnessed your death. 
 

The world remained the same.

A twisted, and claustrophobic joke.

Sealing the understanding in, with acid rain. 
 

I'm sick of the dead horse. 
 

In the dark room, where the colors are made.

Secrets invade this red light.

In the basement, where the graves are made.

Secrets populate the night. 
 

In the dark room, that my mind emulates.

The world remained the same.

In the rotten cage, where the grave was made.

A twisted, claustrophobic joke. 
 

In the dark room, where the colors are made.

Over the rainbows of steel and rage.

In the dark room, where the colors are made.

Over the rainbows of steel and rage.

In the dark room, where the colors are made.