Burnt Heaven

I'm living a mess
Our clouds are upside down
Waiting for the wind to pass
My head remains closed
The marks are printed gray white clouds
Who keep our broken hearts
The seven keys
The seven keys

Who keep our broken hearts
The seven keys

Our veins seem to burst
Fire takes tale of our eyes
As you open the wings and flies through the skies
I stand here
In my little burnt heaven
In my little burnt heaven
In my little burnt heaven

The clocks delayed
They were unleashed by air
We were like fragile glass
And we are now fallen pieces on the floor

The marks are printed gray white clouds
Guarding our broken hearts
The seven keys
We will ask to return home
To go back in time and fix
The bandages will not heal the wounds
The bandages will not heal the wounds
The bandages... Will not heal the wounds
Ah, not heal the wounds
Ah, not heal the wounds

Our veins seem to burst
Fire takes tale of our eyes
As you open the wings and flies through the skies
I stand here
In my little burnt heaven