The truth it lurks
Through the bleached white halls
On the prowl
In the moments of warmth

At the very heart
Of feign affections exchanged
Its scours, wicked and unseen

And in due time
Our tales will dissolve in its fury
In a burst of imprisoned distress

When the hour tolls
We are destined to rage
With the currents of our crimes
Our lives on display

Through the quaint ivory halls
Defiled
By our loathsome waves
In bound for the scorned light of day