Fertile Fields

Sometimes those simple things won't turn the trick no more

And our self-important dreams they all lie shattered on the floor

Even the proletariat receives his royalty

And as the battle rages on and on I wish it wasn't me

And it seems so cruel

The last one breaking up

Until the winter finds it's worth

As we glide upon the earth

Now the trees are swept aside by wind and sheets of rain

And the fertile fields once gilded have now withered and refrained

She who longs for comfort feels instead a savage thrust

And the ashen sky grows ever darker as dawn gives way to dust

As we set our dogs upon the earth

Feast on the dead until no life remains

Forward towards a pointless end we squander never gain