These pictures of my world
Where silhouettes of past lives seem to be flashing by
The void which you left behind
My emptiness
My void
All empty
Like the works of classics
We're seemingly just artwork
Doomed to remain
We have been framed for crimes never committed
To serve for life
We are the restless portraits of faded dreams
We are chained to our history
Like the works of classics
We're seemingly just artwork
Doomed to remain
We have been framed for crimes never committed
We are the restless portraits of faded dreams
We are chained to our history
In the middle of this void
Is my sanity a facade long lost?
Inbetween these lines
History seems to be repeating itself