Be something that
amounts to nothing
the threat
A wrecking ball
plowing through our karma
We have no confident
voice in our ears for tonight
Exist in memory only
headline
We have been through change
By the season of the storms
It's irony
The cleansing
Accept eccentric faith
To need religion
To sit high
among the elect
On march the saints
There's no such thing
as a good time for bad luck
As minutes turn
to distressed fragmented
moments
Reading lips
unable to hear the talk
Partake no tangible
out in tomorrow
We have seen the change
From the season
of the storms
It's irony
The cleansing
With all our lives at stake
From at rest to the present
Are sitting high
among the elect
On march the saints
March
March
March
March
We have been through change
By the season of the storms
It's irony
The cleansing
Accept eccentric faith
To need religion
To sit high
among the elect
On march the saints
On march the saints
On march the saints