Thirty-first, unrehearsednI'm thrown from all I've knownnnA sillhouette, set amongnThe badlands paved with stone.nnPhotographs, fingerprintsnFragile refugeennHigher eyes, fire innThe skys society.nnCan I hold on? Can I believe in,nall the things you are?nnThere's no sane in, chaos reigns in,nSubterraneannCadillac, heart-attacknback of this beyond.nnPusher king, TV queennthe color dating blonde.nnA traitors gate, while you waitngender re-assigned.nnSurgeon carves, the matching halvesnthe blindfold leads the blind.nnCan I hold on? I cannot count themnall the things you are.nnWe're all stronger, I'd hold out longer innSubterranea.nnWithout the walls comfort is freezing, in my veins.nnAnd caught within chemical rain.nnMy dreams have turned against me, and fatally have fenced me in.nnAbove me cold light and below me overall,nnThe time I've lost, how can I know?nnSo I keep forgetting what I am half recalling.nnOn a bed of fallen flowers, hold me now, as I was held before.nnPowerhouse sacred vows, trigger happy punk.nnDriven by the hidden lies and figure hugging junk.nnHeaven knows if I'm closed, am I unreleased?nnIf I'm in hell I may as well play famine to the feast.nnCan I hold on? Can I belong tonall the things you are?nnThere's no sane in, chaos reigns in nSubterranea.nSubterranea.nSubterranea.