The stitch in our eye
With roots deep within
The soil stained with blood
Of those who rose before the time
Dirt relies on our test
Tied to the resolving design
Distance varies though the ways bring us all
Feeders seething woe is them
The volted antenna saints that will the fire
The hand is gnawed
The end is nigh
The warriors remain and they bring us to the sky
We''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''ll burn in the sun
And we''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''ll fall to the moon
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