| I still remember the day the frost descended
|
| It was the end of empty threats
|
| From a God who must have meant it
|
| We must have crossed a deity whom our greed and lust offended
|
| And upon whose plentiful benevolence each of us depended
|
| The biting chill swept across the lofty life we’d built
|
| 'Til mighty buildings were left crushed to look like tiny hills
|
| The frost lifted up the rock exposing all society’s ills
|
| Those we tried not to think about for what we might reveal
|
| We set a course and travelled forth to grab resources
|
| From the shrapnel of oil tankers and man of war ships
|
| Battle forces we hadn’t planned to have a war with at all before
|
| But now we have a lack of choice
|
| This is the new reality, a gloomy anarchy looming
|
| Held in the hand of one human, who is that man? |
| It’s me
|
| Can’t say I feel proud, this doesn’t warrant vanity
|
| The looking glass is frosted over and we cannot see
|
| So, we place our faith and hope and dreams in smoke and steam
|
| I mean, why would we go to those extremes if we don’t believe?
|
| So, hunker down and dig in for the coldest winter tide
|
| Since you convinced your prideful self that you’ve nothing to hide
|
| The wheels of progress frozen motionless
|
| Unless we thaw all these unspoken spokes
|
| Then death is coming home
|
| The wheels of progress frozen motionless
|
| Unless we thaw all these unspoken spokes
|
| Well, then, we’re going home
|
| Ever since the first of us huddled round the fire
|
| With nothing to hide but animal hides as attire
|
| Our entire world was centred
|
| And dependent on supplies of carbon
|
| The new oxygen that we require to respire
|
| We pampered life’s complexities, manufactured luxuries
|
| While suffocating nature’s lungs when we cut the trees
|
| Now our comeuppance seems to be to huddle round the fire
|
| With everything to hide and animal hides as attire
|
| What goes around will come around, whatever’s underground
|
| Will come up now you’re not expecting it
|
| And damn well hunt you down
|
| So hunker down and dig in for the coldest winter tide
|
| Since you convinced your prideful self that you’ve nothing to hide
|
| The wheels of progress frozen motionless
|
| Unless we thaw all these unspoken spokes
|
| Then death is coming home
|
| The wheels of progress frozen motionless
|
| Unless we thaw all these unspoken spokes
|
| Well, then, we’re going home
|
| Our stomachs are the furnaces, our open throats the chimney
|
| Our hearts the flowing pumps that need
|
| The bellow lungs to bring heat
|
| But our brittle bodies are a pitiful device
|
| Trying to subsist upon a trickle of supplies
|
| With the vittles diminishing I don’t think it will suffice
|
| Although species evolve quicker when it’s difficult to thrive
|
| But that theory isn’t something that always applies
|
| Deprive us enough, we’ll suffer our inevitable demise
|
| We are each expendable but the city must survive
|
| It’s just a pleasant bonus if it keeps us alive
|
| So hunker down and dig in for the coldest winter tide
|
| Since you convinced your prideful self that you’ve nothing to hide
|
| The wheels of progress frozen motionless
|
| Unless we thaw all these unspoken spokes
|
| Then death is coming home
|
| The wheels of progress frozen motionless
|
| Unless we thaw all these unspoken spokes
|
| Well, then, we’re going home |