Hear me now Words I vow No fucking regrets Fuck these chains No god damn slave I will be different I'll stand here defiantly My middle finger raised Fuck your prejudice

As I walked out on the streets of Laredo. As I walked out on Laredo one day, I spied a poor cowboy wrapped in white linen, Wrapped in white linen as cold as the clay. "I can see by your outfit that you are a cowboy." These words he did say as I boldly

I may not have the softest touch I may not say the words as such But I'm yours And though I may not look like much And though my edges may be rough And never feel I'm quite enough It may not seem like very much You touch these tired eyes of mine

Everyday I miss your touch Never thought it would mean so much All the words I could have said Got me reelin' torn to shreds Every road I go is nowhere But I know you're out there somewhere These voices in my head Got me feelin' torn to shreds They never

Back to beautiful Get back to beautiful Why do we say this to ourselves? Ooh Gotta, get back to beautiful Why do we say this to ourselves? And even worse to each other? We gotta, get back to beautiful All these words, starting wars Over who can hurt who

When ashes fall the legends rise Whoa (legends rise) It's burning down, it's burning high We burned it out oh my oh why (Legends rise) Legs are tied, these hands are broken Alone I try with words unspoken Silent cry, my breath is frozen With blinded

We will prevail Hope is not lost Weep no more Grieve no more This is our moment Will you stand with me? This is my confession Mark these words, we will rise Let the strength of your words

Sung, female: The way to the lands Where as a hero I stand The path where Beauty met the Beast It's the honesty of these worlds Ruled by magic and mighty swords That makes my soul long for the past In this spellbound night

Oh, this is the beat of my heart, this is the beat of my heart The fear of falling apart If you love me let me go Oh (This is the beat of my heart) ‘Cause these words are knives that often leave scars And truth be told, I never was yours The fear, the

Oh, these three worn words Of tourists in Verona I just want to love you in my own language There was a wayward lad Stepped out one morning The ground to be his bed The sky his awning Neon, neon, neon A blue neon lamp in a midnight country field