The Marching Sane

the autumn in your eyes

the salty dark within your veins

we walk the streets at night

a searing spark inside our cage

your light it burns so painful

turn around and burn me painful

no light can release my pain

not a young god

I spit in the eyes of the marching sane

and in the young ones

and the world will turn in vein

the autumn in your smile

don't dare to walk another way

and when there's no behind... don't look back!

we praise the dawning day

your light it burns so painful

turn around and burn me painful

no light can release my pain...

no light can release my pain

not a young god

a tiptoeing knife in the back they reign

all the young ones

no light can release my pain...