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