Stench of the Iron Age

The crippled bull of dischord, wrath, and avarice will find its way into another age. 4x

Ebb, flow, return again. Flower of disease blossoms again.

Speak; do not tremble. Gasp contently and disappear.

Oh! This dance of distraction; we ponder the pities of plastic and passion.

We learn, in cold precise fashion, as we merge with this cancer we've made.

Behold! Eternal returning; arise the black sun, this scorched earth has stopped turning.

Deceit, our modern condition. We stare at the face of this grand contradiction.

Speak; do not tremble. Gasp contently and disappear.

You will hide in the caverns of mountains. Vomit, the stench of this iron age.

Nameless creatures, speaking in tongues forgotten. Of fear, born fire and rage.

(Fear, born fire and rage.)

Only traces are left behind. Sorry, silent stares breathing poisoned air.

Children shrieking towards the sky. Hatred they declare, and they care not where.

Ebb, flow, return again. Flower of disease blossoms again.

Speak; do not tremble. Gasp contently and disappear.

Oh! This dance of distraction; we ponder the pities of plastic and passion.

We learn, in cold precise fashion, as we merge with this cancer we've made.

Behold! Eternal returning; arise the black sun, this scorched earth has stopped turning.

Deceit, our modern condition. We stare at the face of this grand contradiction.

(Stare in the face) of this grand contradiction.