[Jennings/Dorrian]
Lack-lustre vacuum magnetises the land,
scopeless material in ruthless demand,
concrete spectacle
superficially grand,
divine animation buried in sight.
[Chorus:]
We'll rise from the ashes of stagnation,
crystal warriors
of damnation.
Nullified grafters manufactured from the womb,
out of the repro-clinic into household tomb.
Drag the nothing
tiring through coal-dark underground,
drive the wheels of iron round and round.
[Repeat Chorus]
Scouring eyes sear
through that book of lies,
and to the truth, well our search is dignified.
Whilst the yawny drone of physical machinery
march in
robot mode to terminal destiny.
Microscopic observance, forsaken innerland,
spiritual inertia, absorbed in bland,
well our
significance shan't sink in their charade,
'cos through their drab pantomime I say we're gonna ride!
[Repeat
Chorus.]