| In the raining park the chessmen play
|
| The faithful atheists refuse to pray
|
| The steam-works weep, the addicts do not care
|
| Crowd of cold people stand by and stare
|
| The garbage eaters, their many retainers
|
| Come to collect all the foul remainders
|
| The smoke hangs heavy, the wrecking ball swings
|
| In the clockwork of a collapsing thing
|
| Wasted plastic empire’s golden age, chemical wedding
|
| Citizens in their refineries cheer the nuptial bedding
|
| The hourglass is turning turning turning turning turning
|
| On a shore of iron, cutters, and clippers
|
| Paper, rock, rock, paper, and scissors
|
| On a road of skulls their story moves on
|
| It’s a bumpy ride and very, very, very long
|
| Wasted plastic empire’s golden age, chemical wedding
|
| Citizens in their refineries cheer the nuptial bedding
|
| The hourglass is turning turning turning turning turning
|
| In the blue sky the seagulls fly over garbage
|
| In the blue sky the seagulls fly over garbage
|
| Are we the ocean? |
| Are we the desert?
|
| Are we the garbage? |
| Who’s to say?
|
| Are we the ocean? |
| Are we the desert?
|
| Are we the garbage? |
| Who’s to say?
|
| Wasted plastic empire’s golden age, chemical wedding
|
| Citizens in their refineries cheer the nuptial bedding
|
| The hourglass is turning turning turning turning turning
|
| The hourglass is turning turning turning turning turning |