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The silent the severed the path of raven the words are dead |
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One thousand ladies in ribbon all adorned, underneath |
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The sun underneath the earth underneath an awful banner |
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And golden trumpets. they're braying like clockwork mules |
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In a time of plague, in a time of war |
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The poisoned landscape defiled by the factory pipe, the |
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Sickened land the sickened sky. Cold eyes are spying from the |
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Top of the pyramid: |
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The government thug, the government snitch. |
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But I want something much more different |
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Not these factories of prisons |
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I wish that the earth was green again |
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I wish I had a gun in my hand |
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Someday I will come back in from the cold |
