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