We keep drifting on and on
Across this barren wasteland
Seared earth laid waste
On another plane of existence

Set ablaze like the plague in our brooding creations
Look up and align with the fire in the skies

After the torchlight red on sweaty faces
After the frosty silence in the gardens
After the agony in stony places
The shouting and the crying

Prison and place and reverberation
Our thunder of spring over distant mountains
He who was living is now dead
We who were living are now dying
With a little patience

A graceful approach that you carry on
And carry yourself in such a way
That could never be recreated

And in your eyes I see so much more
Than that place you always go back to
You can pull yourself away from
That face that constantly haunts you

We are the fucking tyrants