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Acres Walk through the ash of man Skin like fields on fire Pain is only a weakness We are connected like tissue Feed on the shame you raised Why continue the hervest? We are already dead No one can reap these stars we've sown There is no morning sun No falling rain For acres of skin Wait! Can you hear the machines? Gears that cultivate flesh Why continue the harvest We are already dead No one can reap these stars we've sown There is no morning sun No falling rain For acres of skin All I want and wish for Is to end this suffering All alone and unaware All primed up for dying Without face, without mind Without dreams, without memory
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