| Song | Migration |
| Artist | Circle of Dead Children |
| Album | The Genocide Machine |
| Like the numb birds that failed to make their migration | |
| Thin flesh, frozen yet dry, has sunken and painted itself to the filthy bones of its dead host | |
| Dusted in snow kissed by fuel emissions and dog ejaculation | |
| Soil fused to feathers | |
| Soil fused to the body | |
| Less than a statistic so are we |