When you're running out and you hear them coming Like an army loud, no time for packing When you're running out and you fall to the ground But you're holding on. Is this called home, land turns to dust. This can't be home, time's running out for us. Now my head is sore and no-one's around To make me feel pure, am I the monster Did I deserve all of those words Cause I still bleed. Is this called home, land turns to dust. This can't be home, where are you now for me. Let me hold your hand.