No seed will grow of this barren earth. Our hope unborn has died. I've slept in the dirt under the light of the moon and I know our souls have perished. Calling to those that would hear but I am deaf. Clawing at those that would feel but I am dead to my own fears. Our cancer has grown into a stone. This water tastes like poison. Your doomsday machine towers above me to instill my vision. Glowing pyre in the wind, like a glowing pyre in the wind I stand to heal. I tried to touch the feelings they have shown, our cancer's grown into a stone. More cracks as our ceiling caves in. This is our destiny. These are visions, visions on.