What

have

we

done?

De-

stroy-

ing

e-

very

a-

cre

of

our

gift.

One

by

one.

Fur-

thest

from

grace.

There

is

no

hand

rea-

ching

down.

It

was

ne-

ver

there

be-

cause

a

God

would

ne-

ver

stand

for

such

a

fuck-

ing

dis-

grace.

Car-

ry

the

car-

cas-

ses

o-

ver

the

plains,

to

the

moun-

tains

where

we

try

to

burn

a-

way

the

pain.

In

a

mas-

sive

grave,

the

so-

lu-

tion

is

to

hide

the

mis-

takes,

but

the

prob-

lem

re-

mains

e-

grained.

Let

the

necks

of

the

bo-

dies

fall,

and

let

our

poor

mo-

thers

cry.

Don't

mut-

ter

a-

ny

point-

less

prayers.

We

don't

de-

serve

to

re-

pent,

we

de-

serve

to

die

a-

lone.

The

dead

cry

out,

na-

ked

and

cold.

Dis-

con-

nec-

ted

from

the

Earth,

we

all

die,

we

all

die

a-

lone.

Be-

trayed

and

bro-

ken,

u-

ni-

ver-

sal-

ly

flawed.

Hop-

less-

ly

sink-

ing

in-

to

the

fro-

zen

thaw.

Emp-

ty

cre-

a-

tions

roo-

ted

out

from

un-

der

our

feet.

We

en-

gorge

on

our

fail-

ures,

we

toast

to

our

de-

feat

of

all

that

we've

made.

We'd

throw

it

all

a-

way.

To-

ge-

ther

we

de-

cay.

Oh

hu-

ma-

ni-

ty,

what

a

shame-

ful

e-

xis-

tence.

If

the

world

would

stop

spin-

ning,

I

don't

think

I'd

miss

it.

The

dead

cry

out,

na-

ked

and

cold.

Dis-

con-

nec-

ted

from

the

Earth,

we

all

die,

we

all

die

a-

lone.

Be-

trayed

and

bro-

ken,

u-

ni-

ver-

sal-

ly

flawed.

Hop-

less-

ly

sink-

ing

in-

to

the

fro-

zen

thaw.

Shal-

low

e-

xis-

tence.

We're

on-

ly

liv-

ing

'cause

we

can't

seem

to

leave.

Ugh!

We're

on-

ly

liv-

ing

'cause

we

can't

seem

to

leave.

We're

on-

ly

liv-

ing

'cause

we

can't

seem

to

leave.

The

hun-

ger

of

po-

wer

is

the

de-

mon

of

man.

He

a-

waits

in

the

dark

to

be

fed

by

our

hand.

And

the

souls

of

our

chil-

dren

won't

quench

the

taste.

We

will

all

die

to-

ge-

ther

with

our

heads

on

the

plate.

Oh

hu-

ma-

ni-

ty,

what

a

shame-

ful

e-

xis-

tence.

If

the

world

would

stop

spin-

ning,

I

don't

think

I'd

miss

it.

We

don't

de-

serve

to

be

safe.

We've

earned

the

flames.

En-

gulf

my

shell,

and

let

the

em-

bers

sail

in-

to

space.

Let

the

necks

of

the

bo-

dies

fall,

and

let

our

poor

mo-

thers

cry.

Don't

mut-

ter

a-

ny

point-

less

prayers.

We

don't

de-

serve

to

re-

pent,

we

de-

serve

to

die

a-

lone.

We

all

die,

we

all

die

a-

lone.