A slip of a tongue and fist. A slight of a hand like this. Touch of the fingertips. Goes through the note we skipped. - Chorus -. We are bound. We are falling through you. We are bound. We are falling through. A moment of bitter bliss. Licking your Judas lips. Throwing a timeless fit. With tongues of a fire we lit. - Chorus -. We are bound. We are falling through you. We are bound. We are falling through. We follow sons amiss. The sons of the counterfeits. The devil has called me from inside. We are bound. We are falling through. Counterfeit sons counterfeit sons counterfeit sons