THE CRIMSON RIVER

OVER THE CRIMSON RIVER

LIES A POOL OF BROKEN DREAMS

FALLEN FROM THE TEARS OF ANGELS

ALONG THIS BLOODY STREAM.

ALONE WE ARE FORGOTTEN

TOGETHER WE ARE FOUND

HIDING IN THE PLACES

WHERE WE CANT MAKE A SOUND.

THE SILENCE THAT WE LIVE IN

HAS MADE US WHO WE ARE.

THE BROKEN HEARTED ANGELS,

THE ONES WITHOUT A DREAM,

THE ONES WHO NO ONE LISTEN TO,

THE ONES WHO ARE JUST LIKE ME.