Fit For An Autopsy

Black Mammoth

Fit For An Autopsy

The Great Collapse


Fools gold, siphoned and sold, merchants of death
Dead in spirit, now dead in flesh
Born of violent flames, landscapes of ashes
The roots soak up the rain, burning in acid
The wounds are cauterized, and left un-bandaged
Wilting beneath a sun, withered and damaged
Tragedy reigns forever

Rejoice in masses
The tribe collapses

The mother weeps in her dying breath
Rise from the ashes, oh foul black mammoth
Dead in spirit, now dead in flesh
Tread on sacred terrain, envenomed and ravaged
The peace upon the plain, seized by the savage
Primitive practices, uproot and vanish
Modern barbarians, new rite of passage

Rejoice in the masses
The tribe collapses

The mother weeps in her dying breath
Rise from the ashes, oh foul black mammoth
Dead in spirit, now dead in the flesh
Tragedy reins forever

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