Your Little Suburbia Is in Ruins

Open those eyes
Wake from peace
Open those eyes
Wake from peace

Orders are some favorite color
Same old same old is their battle cry
Why don't we keep searching for a new flavor?
Our hearts have become a routine
Our hearts have become a routine
Our hearts have become a routine

Worthy kings have broken backs for nothing
Worthy kings have broken backs

Unless we cherish all with pride
The lines on our face will turn into canyons of sorrow
Instead of hope
Instead of hope

They didn't die from the cold without but
They died from the cold within
They died from the cold within
They died from the cold within
They didn't die from the cold without but
They died from the cold within

And I just can't stop denying that our brothers
Are in miserable pain
And I just can't stop denying that our brothers
Are in miserable pain

Stop short
Lend a hand and break the chains of regularity that you lean so closely upon

Your little Suburbia is in ruins
Is in ruins

Tear down all the assumptions you hold
For I guarantee they are false
Sometimes the best feeling may be the one that kills