Promises - Thrice

Oh, we promise pretty things and we pledge with diamond rings;

we profess

undying love

But does that word hold any weight, when we reserve the right to break any vow

that draws our blood?

Our word is so faint and feeble, broken by the slightest breeze or breath

Our hearts are — they’re so deceitful, sick and filled with lies that lead to

death

We are cowards and thieves

Will we never turn to grieve the damage done, never see, never quake with rage

at what we have become?

Yeah we get down on one knee;

o, we play at chivalry, but we do not count the

cost

We say, «On me you can depend,» and «I will be there 'till the end,»

but we will not bear the cross