Lack-lustre vacuum magnetises the land, scopeless material in ruthless demand, concrete spectacle superficially grand, divine animation buried in sand.

Chorus :
We¹ll rise from the ashes of stagnation, crystal warriors of damnation.

Nullified grafters manufactured from the womb, out of the repro-clinic into household tomb.  Drag the nothing tiring through coal-dark underground, drive the wheels of iron round and round.

Repeat chorus

Scouring eyes sear through that book of lies, and to the truth, well our search is dignified.  Whilst the yawny drone of physical machinery march in robot mode to terminal destiny.  Microscopic observance, forsaken innerland, spiritual inertia, absorbed in blanc, well our significance shan¹t sink in their charade, Œcos through their drab pantomine I say we¹re gonna ride

Chorus