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...