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Eyelids like gates

Open our mind to the temple

Marching forward

Whirring relic

Whispers the way to the end

Breathing in the dust

Of all I have lost

Pistons fire

No emotion, no desire

Wading through coil

Sinking in stride, bleeding oil

Severed body and mind

Breathing in the dust

Of all I have lost

Hands form hooks to claw skyward

Sitting on my throne

I can see death manifesting

Vines and leaves have stoked the furnace

I would end it all if I had control

Cold dead world

As I sit in my tower of exile

The world has moved on

Morals are my weakness

Only the scum survive