The moon is full Burning red Voices speak From inside your head The dead will turn In their graves is There anything Left to save? A pitch-black horizon Eats up the sun Is Rock really dead now? Words without A melody Tries to dictate How things should be We need more fuel To feed the flame Or the bullet Will miss the aim We turn up the volume But will there be sound? Is Rock really dead now? We have to make it Our battleground Or Rock will be dead now