The Iron Cemetery

Electric tension will foster an iron scourge.
Inside the tower of Wardenclyffe the weather's running wild.
Craving force, power fusion, radiant diffraction.
A whole production managed by one man:
The tower of Tesla will stand.

All the world rejoices
now as science brings the world to light,
but the electromagnetic field of the earth
brings all to a wild collision.

This December something's on the rise.
There's a sign in a dark horizon;
cosmic fusion, sky divine.

Ash from above
makes an illusion;
liquefied metal rain down
draping the sky in shades this night.

There was a place called Iron Cemetery,
and science made it so.
Forceful and decisive was the ironizing.
And when metallic smoke had cleared up
the human race resembled robotic remains.
They met their end in silence.

Watching his act
turning to chaos.
Trying to finalize a cure.
Watching his loved ones turn.

So the years pass in silence without intrusion.
Then suddenly a fragile flower blooms,
diffusing its life-giving fumes.

Ash from the sky
made its intrusion,
forging its liquefied crown
down on the living of this world.