Charlatans of Industry
Shelter!
Finding shelter amongst the stars
We cast a bottle into those waters desperate for salvation
Our golden world corrupted by
Toxic fumes, blackened waters, and ashen filled heat
Charlatans of industry
Waving their silver lined chambers
A grandiose display
Our macrocosm of greed (greed)
Transmission clawed, marked by Nemean Kings
In a perverse catalogue
Of labors to destroy this world.
Forefront of technology
Reaches out, touches distant hands
A constellation thought void, returns in voice.
Decemvir too divided,
Debating binding helixes,
Quartering into thirds,
To satiate our billionaire populace
Trudging forward
Thirsty, and corrupted
To conquer is all they know
Reaches out to grasp the throats of those who should not speak
The only way to survive is to have no tongue
They feel no shame in wading this carbon abyss
Waning insides whirl
Spat out in perverse pleasure
To meet hands calloused in revolution
They feel no shame in wading this carbon abyss
Waning insides whirl
Spat out in perverse pleasure
To meet hands calloused in revolution
No weapons no scythe against that great filter
No grip for these calloused hands to feel
Our only salvation is to lay down and die
Finding shelter amongst the stars
We cast a bottle into those waters desperate for salvation
Our golden world corrupted by
Toxic fumes, blackened waters, and ashen filled heat
Charlatans of industry
Waving their silver lined chambers
A grandiose display
Our macrocosm of greed (greed)
Transmission clawed, marked by Nemean Kings
In a perverse catalogue
Of labors to destroy this world.
Forefront of technology
Reaches out, touches distant hands
A constellation thought void, returns in voice.
Decemvir too divided,
Debating binding helixes,
Quartering into thirds,
To satiate our billionaire populace
Trudging forward
Thirsty, and corrupted
To conquer is all they know
Reaches out to grasp the throats of those who should not speak
The only way to survive is to have no tongue
They feel no shame in wading this carbon abyss
Waning insides whirl
Spat out in perverse pleasure
To meet hands calloused in revolution
They feel no shame in wading this carbon abyss
Waning insides whirl
Spat out in perverse pleasure
To meet hands calloused in revolution
No weapons no scythe against that great filter
No grip for these calloused hands to feel
Our only salvation is to lay down and die
Credits
Writer(s): Chris Mccrimmon, Patricio C. Paulsen
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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