A silent show of teeth, in bush and beast

The killing joke of progress has brought it to it's knees, oh!

Growth for the sake of growth, this wild reclamation has put me on my feet

This standstill place in which we live was built on movements

The frontier, it isn't closed: not the one we carry with us

Northward, skybound, I try my hand at dying

Southward, I found a life of many moving parts

Northward, skybound, I try my hand at dying

Southward, I found a life of many moving parts

Chasing the sound of fabled footsteps

Westward, always forward, moving on

I am nothing but footprints, hanging there in the still air like every single sunset, trying to burn up before I disappear

We burn the forest just to get a lay of the land

We pray to be saved while we grease the palms of the reapers hands

We burn the forest just to get a lay of the land

We pray to be saved while we grease the palms of the reapers hands

We burn the forest just to get a lay of the land

We pray to be saved while we grease the palms of the reapers hands

A silent show of teeth, a broken-boy rebellion

Binding bodies to the trees to dull the blades that fell them

We storm the Juggernaut!

Surrender flesh to sate the flood

The frontier, it isn't closed; not the one we carry with us

Fists raised like mountains towards the cancer cloud

And still the thumb of god points down