I can see something that can't be real
an illusion, it is not there, oh no
Filthy lies, a crying child
a holy man's confession
We follow without a word
and we'll never question?
Why do we walk the path of incoherent sin?
The times we try to laugh
we end up feeling cold within
Abused by life, abandoned, disdained
It's all in vain
The crying child
alone and so afraid
She's left behind
We must ask ourselves...
