Lack-lustre vacuum magnetises the land
Scopeless material in ruthless demand
Concrete spectacle superficially grand
Divine animation buried in sight

We'll 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

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 bland
Well our significance shan't sink in their charade
'Cause through their drab pantomime I say we're gonna ride