On shores of constants
In times of need
Crowd the huddled masses
Nurture, the dying seed

Come young men of righteous anger, to battlements
Their fathers before them supplanted and torn
Having instilled their desire to burn the world
They release, a primal scream of poetic rhetoric

On shores of constants
In times of need
Crowd the huddled masses
Hints at, the dying seed

This world a grievous melting *** of greed and adulation
With corruption a constant in every hall of power
With money at the heart of near all contemplation
This world, as Atlantis, deserves to be submerged

On shores of constants
In times of great need
Crowd the huddled masses
Grows, the dying seed

There shall come a moment crucial to the very fabric of humanity
When technology threatens to remove the 'God Gene' from man
One final touch-of-a-button, one infinitesimal testimony
That once-and-for-all defines, the uniqueness of man

On shores of constants,
In times of great need,
Crowd, the huddled masses
Shines, the dying seed...