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    Inconceivable it is that somewhere on earth a land exists
    Untouched by civilization's hand. try as we might to peer
    Through the folds of the death grip. the overwhelming
    Human tide surging forward smothering everything that
    Our twisted minds cannot justify as worthy enough
    To take a place in this lie we call progress.

    Scourge! scourge! scourge! scourge!

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    Unwilling to let in the sun unable to escape what's been
    Done and our towers built like open wounds on the land
    That as each day passes begins to more and more resemble
    A vision of hell i had as a child and the droning sounds
    Of progress begin to resemble more and more
    The coming of an endless locust swarm.

    Song details

    Composition: Initial State

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