Your Little Suburbia Is in Ruins August Burns Red

Open those eyes
Wake from peace
Open those eyes
Wake from peace

Orders are some favorite color
Same old same old is their battle cry
Why don't we keep searching for a new flavor?
Our hearts have become a routine
Our hearts have become a routine
Our hearts have become a routine

Worthy kings have broken backs for nothing
Worthy kings have broken backs

Unless we cherish all with pride
The lines on our face will turn into canyons of sorrow
Instead of hope
Instead of hope

They didn't die from the cold without but
They died from the cold within
They died from the cold within
They died from the cold within
They didn't die from the cold without but
They died from the cold within