ALL THAT REMAINS WASHES ASHORE
MY MASSES AT MY FEET BEG MY PARDON
THE FEAST THAT I SEE
GREY AND LIFELESS
I FEED ON THEM
BLINDED BY LIGHT
RETINAS BURNED OUT BY YOUR SUN
I CANNOT GAZE UPON YOU
THESE BROKEN MACHINES
GATHER ALL EARTHLY REMAINS
BUT THE SOULS ARE MINE
COLLECTED TO PAY MY DUES
FOR I WILL CROSS OVER IN COMFORT
ON THE BACKS OF THE BROKEN
I SEEK THE DARKNESS
TO SOOTH THE HURT
AFFLICTED BY THE LIGHT
WE ARE BUT CROP FOR THE HARVEST
LAID AT THE FEET OF THE DIVINE
RICH MEN BUT A MORSEL
THE GODS GROW FAT
FEEDING OFF OUR LIVES
BUT NEVER FILLED, NEVER PLEASED
SEATED IN LUXURY
LOOKING DOWN UPON US
WITH SIGHTLESS EYES
WE SIT EXPOSED
GREY AND LIFELESS
BEGGING THEIR PARDON
WE ARE THE FEAST
WASHING ASHORE