A slip of a tongue and fist
A slight of a hand like this
Touch of the fingertips
Ghost of a note we skipped
We are bound
We are falling through you
We are bound
We are falling through
Moment of bitter bliss
Licking our Judas lips
Throwing the timeless fit
With tongues of a fire we'd lit
We are bound
We are falling through you
We are bound
We are falling through
We follow sons amiss
The sons of the counterfeits
The devil has called me from inside
We are bound
We are falling through
Counterfeit sons
Counterfeit sons
Counterfeit sons