Weigh the anchor, raise the sword
Get ready for an unholy war
Reap the fruits and reap the trees
Steal the flowers and the bees

Where's the hero, where's the god, where's the savior of the lot
Always too little or too late, that's what you get when you believe in fate
The more the means, the less the end, these are the ways of the promised land
Downward spiral, out of hand, another crusade in quicksand
Never come back.

Filled with pride into emptiness
Hear the trumpet's final breath
Desert sands or a bloodbath
The last straw that breaks the camel's back


Dragging you down