No seed will grow of this barren earth. Our hope   unborn has died. I've slept in the dirt under the light   of the moon and I know our souls have perished.      Calling to those that would hear but I am deaf.   Clawing at those that would feel but I am dead to my   own fears.      Our cancer has grown into a stone. This water tastes   like poison. Your doomsday machine towers above   me to instill my vision.      Glowing pyre in the wind, like a glowing pyre in the   wind I stand to heal.      I tried to touch the feelings they have shown, our   cancer's grown into a stone. More cracks as our   ceiling caves in. This is our destiny.      These are visions, visions on.