| The wandering old shapes
|
| Bereaved by their last days
|
| The empty seeds, the curse of man
|
| Mourning for this given hand
|
| Lonely steps across the land
|
| Trembling heart in the ocean sand
|
| The voice of despair echoes loud here
|
| When the waves carry the old
|
| For mother earth we fall
|
| To the last of man, she’ll take us all
|
| Poisoned air, the wasted land
|
| Turns to our tomb
|
| The silence of the womb
|
| The skies blow the last light away
|
| Summer exists only in the writings of the wise
|
| We prepare for our final run
|
| When the winter swallows the sun
|
| For mother earth we fall
|
| To the last of man, she’ll take us all
|
| Poisoned air, the wasted land
|
| Turns to our tomb
|
| The silence of the womb |