We came offering our souls. In search of light it's easy to find shadows. At first all was clear as night. But this would prove to fade. As we pressed on deeper still, we found the land you sold as golden meadows. A blight ridden ashen ground and there we k**ed the truth. Then compa**ion died too. I know my d**h has a face. It is an image of you, and you're plentiful.
There we would build our mounds. On these scared cold plains, where dawn had turned to ashes. Amongst men with empty eyes grace can't be distinguished. In our quest for light we would advance and leave our wake in tatters. Just like d**h on a rampant ride on our zealous quest for you.
There hung a rag for our wounds at the end of the line. It meant d**h to go back; it was a crime of the mind. When that whistle blew it was once more our time, to show our spirits were primed and our bodies were ripe. On the day we k**ed the truth and compa**ion died too. My d**h is an image of you in its grandeur and grace; divine, appalling!