Here in hell digging my own grave
What a splendid metaphor for our North American dream

Tearing up a plot of land for a fistful of gold
And crawling like a greedy maggot to feed my filthy soul
Seven days of chaos with a shovel in my hand
While I strike my neighbour dead for another inch of muddy land
So with this sack of dirt I'll climb
Two shaky rungs at a time
Until I’ve eaten bitterness twenty years
Until I’ve seen faith and wealth both disappear

We were the 21st century hell of the Naked Mountain.
Thank the God of nature for drowning our madness at the bottom of a lake.