Hey there, on that cross, with your breath turned sickly and stale
Your eyes sunk back in your skull. That disaster through your hands
Hey there, little girl, with that charm hanging down 'round your neck
The damned are awash at your feet and asleep in your dress
There's a voice in our ears and it's promise sits empty and bare
It can change the look on a face. Though it's not really there
Now here in the ground, with out lids and breasts covered in dirt
We can't seem to get to our feet. We can't seem to breathe
The dead sing along
You can't be that boy
You can't be that girl
You can't be that voice
You can't let it go