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Garden of tar
Where pale limbs char
Like born children of rapture
How they splinter
How they turn

Contagion, Inked as fine print
(Cancerous blood)
Contagion, inked as fine print
(Cancerous sludge)

Hopeless, their words
Reflect much worse;
Jealous human nature,
How it splinters.. 
How it turns

Contagion, inked as fine print
(Cancerous sludge)
Contagion, inked as fine print
(Cancerous death claims all life)

Their arms are branches,
Whom had born...
Dark fruit

They sing of thorn crowns
With their poisoned words and their arms disconnect us from our brother nature

It's in their nature to destroy all that is dear to us our children and our hopes

There is a price that's paid for order; disconnecting from our brother nature

It's in their nature to destroy all that is dear to us, our children and our hopes

This is the price we pay,
disconnect,

(burning garden)

"Garden of tar
Garden
Garden of filth paint me,
With your lies"

Like burnt leaves their 
hands curl inward
Slowly transformed
DEAD, DEAD, DEAD
fall off of branches 
whom once gave them life

Black leaves

And while these black leaves dance in their death weave,
There is no contempt
There is no contempt

to these black leaves
I will sing 
til my heart's content
Oh
to these black leaves
I will sing....

Peasant Hands