---

And so it all comes down to this.
It all builds up to now.
Saw none of it coming,
but I don't know how.

This is the only way
it could have ended.
We reached our finale
sooner than expected.

(In the witching hour...)

What more can we do?
We've tried all that we can
while you place the blame
squarely in the victim's hands.
Watching us fall further
than we could before,
stubbornly saying
"you got what you wished for."

In the witching hour we turn to dust in front of you.
We recollect the pieces and from them are born anew.
In spite of all the good we've done, we are the monsters' prey.
You shun the horrors we'll become and turn your heads away.

It's been like this
as far as we remember.
Chocking on smoke,
stepping barefoot on embers.
In our paper fortress
we wait until nightfall,
the time when our mistakes
burn what's left of our paper walls.

In the witching hour we turn to dust in front of you.
We recollect the pieces and from them are born anew.
In spite of all the good we've done, we are the monsters' prey.
You shun the horrors we'll become and turn your heads away.

We put our endings
before our beginnings
but nobody's told us
just what we are winning.
We fight with our lives
'til we don't even have those.
We fight with all we have
but still nobody knows.

In the witching hour we turned to dust in front of you.
The pieces all were trampled, now there's one thing left to do.
In spite of all the good we've done, we were the monsters' prey.
You shun the horrors we've become and turn your heads away.

---

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