| Pry the darkness from my eyes. | 
| Divided, let the light seep in. | 
| Trees devoid of branches and hollow hives. | 
| An endless black and empty beds. | 
| It’s not the same, something’s changed. | 
| I never used to be able to see past the trees. | 
| A thousand unfamiliars are lying thick on the air and I can’t breathe. | 
| Is our skin to keep the world out or our bodies in? | 
| This doesn’t look like home; | 
| this doesn’t look like home. | 
| Is our skin to keep the world out or our bodies in? | 
| I’ll tear apart the town then sleep, and sleep alone. | 
| If I’m a flame, I’m a forest fire speaking savage tongues as I emerge from the | 
| hills. | 
| I am an avalanche. | 
| I am unchained. | 
| I’m awoken. | 
| I’ll unleash hell. | 
| So I roar, pin back my ears, and stone by stone I’ll tear it all, | 
| I’ll tear it apart. | 
| Is our skin to keep the world out or our bodies in? | 
| This doesn’t look like home; | 
| this doesn’t look like home. | 
| Is our skin to keep the world out or our bodies in? | 
| (This doesn’t look like home; this doesn’t look like home.) | 
| I’ll tear apart the town then sleep, and sleep alone. | 
| (This doesn’t look like home; this doesn’t look like home.) | 
| I’ve lost faith, the forest’s changed. | 
| My stomach’s empty, I’m feeling faint. | 
| I’ve lost heart, the forest’s scarred. | 
| I hear no birds, just TVs and cars. | 
| I’ve lost faith, the forest’s changed. | 
| My stomach’s empty, I’m feeling faint. | 
| I’ve lost sight, the forest’s died. | 
| The brambles are bare, and I’m hollow inside. | 
| Each breath rattles like dice in my chest, each breath gambled, unwinding till | 
| death. | 
| Is our skin to keep the world out or our bodies in? | 
| This doesn’t look like home; | 
| this doesn’t look like home. | 
| Is our skin to keep the world out or our bodies in? | 
| (This doesn’t look like home; this doesn’t look like home.) | 
| I’ll tear apart the town then sleep, and sleep alone. | 
| (This doesn’t look like home; this doesn’t look like home.) |