Collapse
From Wall Street to Main Street
To people with no streets
Blind with open eyes
They drive us into collapse
They grab all they can buy
Traffic jam in their synapses
4 degrees warming
No one is listening
If you open the door
You will find no floor
If you stay inside
A traitor is by your side
There are not ghosts left
On the other side of the moon
They catch the elect
And turn them into buffoon
The fool in his nest
Clasp the virgin’s breast
They infect the seeds
That could have redeemed us
And tell there is no need
To make such a fuss
The hand on broken swords
Here stand the few last knights
The garrison speaks no words
In the dead of this foul night
Bereft of strength
A wretched lot
Should sisters turn
Into harlots
Repeat the word Maya
And you shall find Yama
Truth brings living breath
Illusion shall bring death.