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Wish them well
They go now searching
I have nothing to give
Only this to say:

Beware the crossroads
Where the sacred river flows
Don't start a fire
That you know that you cannot
(Control...)
Oh, I hear the words your saying
They come from another place
Meteors slice through horizons
Locked into vectors I can't trace

Siren's call emanating
Over cursed land
It's got a hold
On my soul
Now I am compelled

Voices of the slaughtering tribe
Ribcage of ancient pine
Ash-stained prosthetic fingers...
This sector's way out of
(Control...)
Yet maybe they could
Make a difference
Before the day is through
What can we do?

Yet maybe they could
Make a difference
Before the day is through
What can we do?

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