Cold brains, unmoved, untouched, unglued Alone at last And no thoughts, no mind, to rot behind A trail of disasters A final curse Abandoned hearse We ride, disowned Corroded to the bone The fields of green are bent, obscene I lay upon the gravel And a worm of hope, a hangman's rope Pulls me one way or the other A final curse Abandoned hearse We write these songs Corroded to the bone A bird of song is heard no longer In the evacuated Heavens The drain is drawn and drained and gone And on and on, it doesn't matter A final curse Abandoned hearse We ride, disowned Corroded to the bone A bird of song is heard no longer In the evacuated Heavens The drain is drawn and drained and gone And on and on, it doesn't matter