| Arms towering into fear | |
| Feels like I am going in my sleep | |
| The dead are breeding under my pillow | |
| Is there a place for you in me? | |
| Best forgotten | |
| Gates closing when you draw near | |
| At the very heart of melancholia | |
| Those were his last words | |
| Is there still something to die for? | |
| Inside my heart a wasteland | |
| That only you can fill with life | |
| For ther are strangers in our way | |
| Pulling us under, dreaming us under tonight | |
| As certain as the grave | |
| If I lie to you again | |
| Imposed in the darkness | |
| Every word is true | |
| and best forgotten | |
| Words surrender into a seal | |
| My life is a curse I keep to myself | |
| The dead are breaking under my pillow | |
| Memories of when you were there | |
| Best forgotten | |
| Lips drying when you are near | |
| At the very pit of melancholia | |
| Those were her last souls | |
| Is there still something to dream of? | |
| Inside my heart a wasteland still | |
| That only you could make me feel | |
| For there are snakes in our way | |
| Feeling us under, nesting us under tonight | |
| As certain as the grave if I lie to you again | |
| Imposed in the darkness | |
| Every word is true | |
| and best forgotten |
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