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The reek of phosphorous hang heavy over these fields
Where life could bloom if you would just stable your steel horses
Your death machines
A tradition of salted earth
Overshadow your craft
Digging deeper, forgetting that the supply is running lower
Transitioning not into the new day
You are moving sideways towards the ledge
Not seeing the abyss of depletion
Moving sideways towards the ledge
Falling down there where you'll wither
The tradition of salted earth
Is now the full extent of your skills
It's overshadowed your craft
You pour poison into the soil
Oh, the irony!
What will you think of all you've wasted
When all we'll eat is the dust that's left
When the disruption of natural systems
Finally grants you what your ignorance deserves