it s been a brutal existence for most this far we were clawing in the dirt we were dying in birth we were grinding grain in the noon day sun with madmen spitting bloody feathers to appease the demons oh it s been a godless existence for some this far we were breaking bread in a brotherhood of men no i can t recall a single memory of our universal past and i ve never felt a drop of blood fall from beneath my singing ax oh it s been a voiceless wilderness for most of us this far and there s no prophet on the mount whose words won t be drowned out by our locust fingers clicking neverending in our lapse we traded in divine inheritance to break our pagan masks are there none who walk among us who remember what we had 