Mis-shapen forms malign the horizon congregate; the hapless orphans of the soul crippled by silence yet woven together parading in the shadow of fear Standing in the halls of degeneration walls and marbled arches recapturing artifacts of our decrepit civilisation antiquated barracks in a funeral world The Watchtowers are documenting our downfall making sure every move is archived there's no motive to interrupt the power struggle apathetic ones who wait the course of time Chased around the streets caught in the crossfire targeted by hostiles waiting behind the stones... On the ground evading the helicopters flying through the fog of our burning skin arterial blood in the mortar human suffering linked to the monarchs throne Broken transmissions glitch through tumultuous wet-wired abyss failed broadcasts of voiceless breath trailing after distant flares pilot lights are the radar eyes hovering above the junkyard automatons raging through the dismal emptiness cavorting in a state of disrepair We've been chased around the streets caught in the crossfire targeted by hostiles waiting behind the stones... In a stronghold of iron and steel leering atop the cliffs industrial angels with ashen halos peer into a void of life's emptied orifice Dreams into dust surrounded by cold towers firelight in window eyes pierce into my body Breaching the borders of abandoned cities occupying deadzones and expanding ground zero poised to create our own imprisonment though fires still burn in the window's eye... Futile is the fight of a forgotten ideal A feast upon static beneath the commotion deafened by revolving white noise loquacity reported to an empire of erratic execution discarded in chambers beyond clandestine gates Chased around the streets caught in the crossfire targeted by hostiles waiting behind the stones... In a stronghold of iron and steel leering atop the cliffs industrial angels with ashen halos peer into a void of life's emptied orifice