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Black chimneys are sending smoke signals to the world

while millions of hands are raised like dead antennas towards the sky

- where satellites are racing the earth

to the rhythm of a funeral song, heard in the wind like a silent hum

Embers to a flame to fires in the rain

We can only take so much

until we spit fire in the night

like the moon turning from an eye to a fang,

during it's monthly dance across the sky

we'll no longer watch but cut the ties,

that bind us to this cruelty

you call a fucking part of life

Our skin – is only paper thin

it cannot hold these worried fires within

Embers to a flame to fires in the rain