Wrenched (Zyklon)

In the yard of the old man The ruin's shimmering The world's painted pale The conditions are at stale Flocks gathered from far away Hiding, still overly aggressive Generations they will slay Not really regressive A dead end cave Home of the brave The world fools no one Grace me with hammering rest Keep an eye on the sea Imagine what we would be Rushing to the shores God of all damn wars Wrenched beyond recognition No such thing as human intuition Feel free to turn the supreme ignition