Walk through the ash of man
Skin like fields on fire
Pain is only a weakness
We are connected like tissue
Feed on the shame you raised
Why continue the hervest?
We are already dead
No one can reap these stars we've sown
There is no morning sun
No falling rain
For acres of skin
Wait! Can you hear the machines?
Gears that cultivate flesh
Why continue the harvest
We are already dead
No one can reap these stars we've sown
There is no morning sun
No falling rain
For acres of skin
All I want and wish for
Is to end this suffering
All alone and unaware
All primed up for dying
Without face, without mind
Without dreams, without memory
