A faded picture etched in glass
Counting the hours that would not pass
Crossing the threshold, standing still
Walk through these halls that once were filled

These walls ripped down
They're screaming out
No one can save us now

Cursed is the light
Which enters this place
Wrapping the dark in curtains and lace
Hiding what's inside
The truth we never find

Youll never make a sound;
No one will hear a sound
No one can save us now
We have walked the trail of dead
We have washed our hands of this night

Cursing the lives
That enter this place
Wrapping their wounds
In white cotton lace
Holding what's inside
The truth we never find

Youll never make a sound;
No one will hear a sound
No one can save us now
We have walked the trail of dead
We have washed our hands of this night