(the synth is made in a fashion to conjure the image of sirens)

justice dies
when a martyr's born
the people don't have bullets and they're out of thorns
We might have a cross... if you are lucky

If there was a crime
We will never know
But you're going to reap whatever, whatever you have sowed
I guess you had it coming, maybe

Did it burn, did it burn?
When they recognized your turn?
When they found a witch to play their fantasy?

Did you hurt, did you cry?
When they fell for all of the lies?

Heroes fade
As the truth is lost
Send a search crew out to the permafrost
When did we become so cowardly?

It was all a game
'Til we lit the fuse
We were dancing with a train and thought that it would lose
Victims of our driveby vanity