I'll be the pyramids you'll be the sky

The clothing shorn
In wasteland we are born

Where do we go now
Forgotten places
Forgotten time

Love and love me not
Wilted flowers and lost thoughts

The radio is in the street
Columns creaking in defeat
We're feeding ourselves to the fire
Injecting dreams
self dissonance

We walk in the desert calling it home
In fire born
In wasteland
The clothes are shorn

I'll be the sky you'll be the pyramids