Feeding on our ancestors
Feasting on the dead
We Burn
We fuel
We cremate
Drive machines with wood and lead
We innovate and motivate
And bring our dreams to flight
From dark diamonds and black gold
We turn them all to light
We are raising the dead
Their ashes fill our skies
The remnants of their burning, smog the sun and close our eyes
We are raising the dead
And raising hell on earth
They are liberated incarnate
A fiery second birth
Our hopes and dreams
Our plans and schemes
depend upon their ascension
But our lives are lost as we count the cost
For paying little attention
To the cry and pain of such primitive gain and our hearts are filled with dread.
As our lives return to the dust, we burn
And the earth becomes our bed.
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