Don't tell me that its not ordinary to act like
I'm the fire everytime your cold.
Or is it that you're afraid to stray?
I have to admit that I'm not quite sure.
I'm not quite sure...
We are the arms that breach the barriers between wrong and right.
Counting the days since we ran away our stolen summer haze burned off as state lines blur and fade behind.
We took the long way out of town past the hangouts and the drowned rats we were glad to leave behind
We are the arms that breach the barriers between wrong and right.
Oh now we have to change, we have to change before we start to lose control.
Oh now we have to change it's not the same.
The sympathy well has just run dry.
Scatter the broken past that we hide from Are we alone or at last just abandoned