It's not the knife you bleed on.
It's not the cancer in your bones.
It's not the sunrise choking.
It's not the blood red moon alone.

It's not the way you look dead.
It's not the silent season.
It's not the suffer intense.
It's not the life you feed on.

It's the way the night falls into feeling grey.

Empire, I was built around your heart.
(Hey, Hey, Let the right one in.)

It's not the ghost you kill with.
It's not the yellow eyes you crush.
It's not your falling senses.
It's not the barrel of this gun.

It's the way the night falls into feeling grey.

Empire, I was built around your heart.
(Hey, Hey, Let the right one in.)