I've got a question for the hands who rule the world

Is your ambition, to watch it burn?

Why, when you hold us all

would you choose to decide

to let our grandeur fall, to ruin and demise

Bury me under a mountain of a beautiful things

Consume debris, glorious waste; ash in my mouth

We try to pay debts with our blood

buying a life gladly sold to us all.

Paper made to enslave, aimed to shatter our light

We're designed to defray, collateral closure

We sow simple seeds planted deep meant to nourish our thirst

We must tend to the weeds, who've spread through our garden.

Why is the blood so cold, like splintered frozen ice?

Sat atop gold thrones to observe death

Claw out existence from the rubble and the mire.

See our backs grow strong, our hearts ache with desire

Bury me under a mountain of a beautiful things

Consume debris, glorious waste; ash in my mouth

We try to pay debts with our blood

buying a life gladly sold to us all.

Paper made to enslave, aimed to shatter our light

We're designed to defray, collateral closure

We sow simple seeds planted deep meant to nourish our thirst

We must tend to the weeds, who've spread through our garden.

We're owned, wings cut off of such poor and unfortunate souls

Controlled by objectification of material

Bury me under a mountain of beautiful things

Consume debris, glorious waste; ash in my mouth

Cherishing all that you want while wasting what you need

in slavery a least breath is free

It's ash in my mouth