These bleak ruins remain
from what we've built through the years
and our eyes burnt in their holes
by the torches we brought for you

The fires we came baring
were extinguished with ease
when no one was willing
to keep them alive

it's not the need that pushes us forward
but this is merely something that has to be done

Our fingers dig through the soil
with a feverish compulsion
they're the only true instrument
of untainted expression

You've pounded the walls
of your simple existence for so long
that the empty achiavements come
as a never ending stream

Waiting for someone to rid us of this anguish
expecting someone to show, what it all was worth

As here finally
flesh meets the ground
these blistered bare hands retrace
what once was brought down

it's not the need that pushes us forward
but this is merely something that has to be done