Roses wither, roses die.
If flowers had enough light, if flowers had enough...

Like the leaves in the fall,
dancing their death in the air...

O’ almighty, forgive our sins.
O saviour, we sinned on thy face...

It's a work of art.
The structure so further so far...

"Move!", "Move!", "Faster!", "Faster!"
We marched; brain-dead. Our bodies inactive...

A Shattering Shrill sound calls;
Touching the trills of the heart...

Down the hill in silent space
Down the cage in dark holes...

Ooh my Belle,
Like a bee bears honey...

Now they look dead in the streets
The once so happy and healthy creatures...

O' why the fuss my people?
why you give it a life of toil...

The torments
of a caring heart...

Do they deserve names?
Do they even care...