No seed will grow of this barren earth. Our hope

unborn has died. I've slept in the dirt under the light

of the moon and I know our souls have perished.



Calling to those that would hear but I am deaf.

Clawing at those that would feel but I am dead to my

own fears.



Our cancer has grown into a stone. This water tastes

like poison. Your doomsday machine towers above

me to instill my vision.



Glowing pyre in the wind, like a glowing pyre in the

wind I stand to heal.



I tried to touch the feelings they have shown, our

cancer's grown into a stone. More cracks as our

ceiling caves in. This is our destiny.



These are visions, visions on.