Well what do we have here? dredged up from the dirt - a feast for the flies, dragged across the peace-wall partition Upending the trajectory of all those lonely years The scornful disturbance of a cold and quiet mind
Coursing through the waves, drowning out the day's last shelter The fetid corpses of summer -- the festering root of our failure
The wrath of excavation -- a bygone stench reborn Encircles the wreckage with the empty notion of growth
Preemptive rift of a grave indifference Heeding collapse of our towering monuments Drawing the dead toward the crest of the evening Our shores littered with ruinous purge
Stabbing through the light, strangling the day's last whimper The fetid corpses of summer -- the festering root of our failure Withering under the sun, a mass grave of waste and negligence The catastrophic tempest of summer was our final point of departureTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
