(Outro)
We burned it bright, we burned it bright,
Now the cinders fade and we’re walking through the night.
Farewell to the magic that shaped our fate—
The crooked miles are heavy, but we made it, we made it.
Farewell to the phantom that carved our names,
Every crooked mile staked like a claim.
The load that we bore with nowhere to turn—
Now the cinders fade and the pages burn.
The ink dried on the chapters we couldn’t rewrite,
Every fault and sin exposed in the light.
We laughed and we bled on this winding road,
Now the curtain falls and the quiet takes hold.
The things that we chased through the heat and the rain—
Now the last page turns and the lights go gray.
Somewhere in the wreckage a new thing sleeps,
Born from the ashes the darkness keeps.
We gave it our blood and we gave it our name—
Now we lay it down and we walk from the flame.