Swarming Season

The dust leaves a film on the back of your throat
A familiar and signature taste
The aerosols linger from breathless land
Fertile ground laid to waste
But lo were the glory days
Lo were the glory days
Now we must all repent

Progress, we'll kill in its name
Hold it up high as we worship the flame
Our shadows etched into the screen
Yes men give poor advice
Sycophants approve and they never think twice
Even doormats must be sharp enough to clean

Fuel, spark, and air, industrial trinity
Fire always burns fair
Keep your eyes on the prize and your feet on the ground
You can build it up strong but it always falls down
Into fuel, spark, and air

Onward, we mustn't slow down
The air starts to cough and the rivers will drown
Failure, a dozen a dime
History frowns on those behind the times
While we wonder "Whose bastard child is this?"

Fuel, spark, and air, industrial trinity
Fire always burns fair
Keep your eyes on the prize and your feet on the ground
You can build it up strong but it always falls down
Into fuel, spark, and air

We'll have it all
More than we know
More than we need
But never enough
Never enough

A breeze blows through with the folly of man
The hinges creek on the doors
The embrace of rust wraps all in its reach
Our focus is turned to the floors
But lo were the glory days
Lo were the glory days
Now we must all repent

The locusts are starving, they're starting to swarm
It's full night
Now we are the damned
We are the damned
For now is the hour of our sins
And now is the end of our reign
And we served and we lauded but we lied
Now we're left with nothing but our pride