Harvest For The Great Machine

from A TITHE IN BLOOD by WRØNG

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lyrics

Crude oil spills from the wounds of the dead.
The sacred pines bend and sway with dread.
Eyes constantly rolling within the head.
Fuming from the mouth of the freshly fed.

The wrecking ball swings as the blood is spilled.
The crowds step aside as another is killed.
This is not the end any other had willed.
As they drain away and the great chalice is filled.

Blood.
Decay feeding death.
Fuel.
Harvest for the great machine.

Lifeless colours of the oncoming light.
Chased away by the cold, by the cold of the night.
Trees churned up to pamper the flames.
None left to wonder how to stake their claim.
As the fed feed those who feed the great machine.
Insatiable engine, the end of which remains unseen.

Decay feeding death.
Harvest for the great machine.

credits

from A TITHE IN BLOOD, released June 8, 2019

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WRØNG Melbourne, Australia

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