Panopticon The End Is Growing Near
Clear cuts expose the forest floor
The feral indigence of progress
The rape of the natural world
Stripped of her assets, our Mother Earth
The whore of progress
The horror of industrial agriculture, the unsustainable assault of enslavement redefined
The earth in the shackles of man
Sedentary slave drivers (To the nomads and the wilderness alikе)
The bonds are about what you cut away
Not about with what you chain us down
The rotting corpsе of our nomadic, tribal nature
Desecrated with harnessed fields
And modified seeds
Embrace the urge to bring civilization to its knees or try and make it succeed
Only to eventually fade (Into one more species failed). Unsustainable, unable to succeed
There is sorrow in the seeds
The roots are poisoned and there has always been sorrow in the seeds
