Through the glades and thickets,
Comes the roar of machinery
The taste of acrid smoke
And the smell of avaricious blood
The last green place will be snuffed,
And Leviathan's victory completed

Monuments
Rising from ashen groves and charred stumps
Rising from oceans of oil and lakes of blood
Monuments to a culture of excess and enslavement

Ahead lies Ragnarok
Our march to a new world will not stop,
Until the flesh is hacked from our bodies,
And our bones turn to dust
Existence may end, but our dreams will remain
The new seeds of the earth will carry on our memory

My soul will take flight on the immortal wind,
The spirits of the dreamers ever remembered,
In the songs of our children

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