The first of the century.

You know, you can be the first of this century to bleed through. To find truth. To know what you should do.
You know, it could be anything.
Sometimes you might find a crack or a fault line. But, dressed down or made up, you'll find a real love.
A place to come home to at night.

So what did we pay for? And why did we care? What were we after, and why was it there?
Desire gave way to a false sense of hope and we fell for the lie that it's what we all chose.
And I yelled to my friends, "It'll all be okay." But they didn't believe me.
They still don't today.
They never do anything they haven't before. In the same solemn room with no lock on the door.
And over and over and over again, the same failed solutions to all the same problems.
They scream, "Why? Why? I can't understand why the things that I do never go as I've planned!"

And the vultures begin their slow circling, the dogs lick their teeth. Bright white and gleaming.
But just hold your tongue. Barely begun to fight until now.
Let's see what you've got, this wide open shot. Take it or leave it.
'Cause we're getting out, we're getting out alive. And you'll never find us again.