Move on
Fresh wounds upon rough scars
Like young rain on top of old slush

Until my dying day I'm healing pain with pain

I am the war-born stubborn dog who lives to bite the leash
That will never find peace
We all enter home through an exit door
Exile is our abode

Ink in our minds, henna in our hearts
Tony wasn't buried when Mr. Ledger was
Paul Rodgers suggests us all
That the show must go (go, go, go) on

Ink in our minds, henna in our hearts

Fresh wounds upon rough scars
Like a tornado putting out a fire

Until my dying day I'm healing pain with pain

I am the war-born stubborn dog who lives to bite the leash
That will never find peace
We all enter home through an exit door
Exile is our abode