Lyrics

We Slip Through the Fingers of Gods at a Snail’s Pace.
Bear Witness, if You Dare.
Inhibitions Fall.
Wrinkles Deepen.
Meanwhile, All Our Equipment Needs Repair.

So, Take Good Care.
The Desert is Unkind.
The Sensitive Will Falter, Bearing Their Bitter Knives.
A Path May Be Illuminated by Making Snide Remarks.
A Bath Would Wash the Stink Off,
But Not the Wilt at Heart.

Amidst a Sea of White Roses, Beyond Where the Wild Dogs Roam,
Stands a Crumbling Fortress, Awaiting Someone New to Call it “Home”.
Shooting Stars are Impossible to Behold, Obscured by Heavy Clouds of Ash.
Molten Magma Erupts from Countless Geysers,
As Living Things Scurry for Ever-Dwindling Safety.

Organic Vines and Synthetic Cables Intertwined,
Return to Our Mother.
With the Roots and the Spirits of the Fallen,
Old Machines, Rusted and Abandoned,
Get Swallowed Up by Father Time.

Squandered Hope is Sand, Sifted
Through Screens Finer Than History Itself.
This Great House Will Never Dwell in Shadow.
New Fields Will Grow, and Dirt Will Still Surround You.

Misanthropes Demand Twisted,
Obscene Silence, and Victory is Quelled.
This Great House Will Never Dwell in Shadow.
New Fields Will Grow and Burn the Shills Around You,
When Your Time is Come.
Dirt Will Still Surround You, When Your Time is…

So, Take Good Care.
The Desert is Unkind.
The Sensitive Will Falter, Bearing Their Bitter Knives.
A Path May Be Illuminated by Making Snide Remarks.
A Bath Would Wash the Stink Off,
But Not the Wilt at Heart.

So, Best Beware
The Jealous and Outshined.
Defending Every Falsehood, They’ll Sever Every Tie.
Devoid of Class and Couth, They Shift Blame with No Regard.
Then Try to Pass the Bill Off,
As if Their Will is Ours.

No Deed Goes Left Unpunished
In This Barren Land Bereft of Guilt.
Pompously Tout Our Plummet.
And Raise a Glass to Bountiful Filth.

We Slip Through the Fingers of the Gods at a Snail’s Pace.
Bear Witness, if You Dare.
If You Dare.