The Great Divide

The rising of the century

Did not bring catharsis.

The rising of the century

Did not bring salvation.

The crack is getting deeper,

The flames are burning higher.

Lost and hunted refugees

Are chanting in the circle.

The predators of the great divide

Are cutting their throats,

Slicing their guts,

And drinking their blood.

This world was always fertile

At the root of our tongues.

Our tongues were always cut

At the root of our words.

We have reached the good and evil

And we didn't speak much.

Bloody soil - fertile land,

Bloody soil - fertile land.

But then we had to leave

To go further,

Through blistering heat,

Chasing death,

Erasing distance

Devouring time with

Infinite greed.

Now we are here

Sensitive to shadows,

Speaking to the dead

And burning alive

In our ritual songs.

The sky is set alight as though the stars

Were at war.

The desert is burning

With cold flames.

White astronauts

Are reflected on the surface.

Golden mountains

Are shining in the distance.

This is the black circle

And this the black cross.

This is the dark funeral at midnight.

A bloody horizon

Has consumed the sun

In the machine

2000 and one.