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