I've got a question for the hands who rule the world
Is your ambition to watch it burn?
Why, when you hold us all would you choose to decide to let our grandeur fall to ruin and demise?
Bury me under a mountain of beautiful things
Consumed debris, glorious waste; ash in my mouth
We try to pay debts with our blood, buying a life gladly sold to
All of us
Paper made to enslave, aimed to shatter our light
We're designed to defray, collateral closure
We sow simple seeds planted deep meant to nourish our thirst
We must tend to the weeds who've spread through our garden
Why is the blood so cold, like splintered frozen ice?
Sat atop gold thrones to observe death
Claw out existence from the rubble and the mire
See our back grow strong, our hearts ache with desire
Bury me under a mountain of beautiful things
Consumed debris, glorious waste; ash in my mouth
We try to pay debts with our blood, buying a life gladly sold to us all
Paper made to enslave, aimed to shatter our light
We're designed to defray, collateral closure
We sow simple seeds planted deep meant to nourish our thirst
We must tend to the weeds who've spread through our garden
We're owned; wings cut off of such poor and unfortunate souls
Controlled by objectification of material
Bury me under a mountain of beautiful things
Consumed debris, glorious waste; ash in my mouth
Cherishing all that you want while wasting what you need
In slavery at least breathe is free
It's ash in my mouth
