Texty: Barcelona. Get Up.

Five days after black and red collide.
The motion sickness past, I?ll be the first to stand.
Behind that weathered door, I thought it would be safest.
My head is dizzy now, I thought we?d overcome.
We might not make it home tonight.

Crawling on the ash, she?s pitiful.
She lost her sense of light; she has to hold my hand.
Had I known we might be two kids without their jackets.
My fear would come alive, I wouldn?t love her now.
She might not make home tonight.

Get up
Get up
Get up