Cockroaches crawl through the eye sockets
Fodder to the earth like generations before
Somehow we've figured out how to become more selfish
Than our crooked mentors
Death has become a spectacle
Corpses rotting away in golden-plated tin cans
Made from the wood that's been ripped from the soil
Gaia curses your soul
Death has become a spectacle
Corpses rotting away in golden-plated tin cans
Made from the wood that's been ripped from the soil
Gaia curses your soul