Ride - Cathedral

Lack-lustre vacuum magnetises the land, scopeless material in ruthless demand,

concrete

spectacle superficially grand, divine animation buried in sand.

Well 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 blanc, well our

significance shant sink in their charade, Rcos through their drab pantomine I say were

gonna ride !