Nickels Is Money Too

Climbing into fire, her hands are forceful.
We're burying earth in earth.
White hands, soft hands: carefully.
This makes no sense.
What's that sound I hear?
What's that sound I hear?
What's that sound I hear?
What's that sound?
I'm lost in a state of confusion.
Oh ground.
I despise you, but rejoice in your essence.
Envy will cease my sky.
Greed will cease my sky.
"Here's a farmer that hung himself on the expectation of plenty"
At this time I feel there is no bottom to earth.
Welcome to the museum of the dead.
Welcome to the museum of the dead.
Endless gore becomes reality.
Endless gore becomes reality.
Tradition's dug the grave.
The inferno has commenced.
Tradition's dug the grave.
The inferno has commenced.