In a selfish humanity we are jealous, filled with ire, we'll break
All disasters are made by man, storms, pleasure by violence
We question our purpose, when the generations are set adrift
Don't stare too long into the sun, burnt eyes see oblivion
Absolute blank, yet black ink in the darkest of colors
Nothing remains pestilence, war, famine and death
Born to hold back the surging tide at the gates
While our spirits flee, nothing remains of flesh
