When the last drop of water has finally trickled away
And the last green leaf has withered
What do you think you’re going to say
To the masses that wait, bewildered?
When a breath of fresh air becomes a luxury for the rich
And the sky is overcast, not a single cloud in sight
Do you think your lies, that you weave and stitch
Will appease those at the height of their plight?
When all the beasts and bushes have perished
And all that’s left is the dry grey sand
All the children, their dreams, their memories they cherished
Will mingle with the dirt, and it’ll be by your hand
When the blood of those you’ve trodden upon
Mingles with the nectar you fancy you drink
And their bones cease rattling at the break of dawn
You’ll know that you stand at madness’ brink