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