I'm afraid you'll never get back, you'll wander this road til the sun cooks the meat from your back.
And with head raised high, stare into the light til your eyes chap, crack and fry.
Crimson salt in the air, the blood dust in your lungs makes it harder to choke down air.
Your last gasps despair, and the sand reaches up and makes a martyr from flesh and hair.

Paint this, a pillar, ten feet of hell on earth here demands surrender.

The march of progress, is never slowing down.
But what it costs us, is barely visible now.

It's here a force to push us on, leading a horde of the blind.
The weak it shepards on & on, into impending night.
And those who turn toward the sun, respecting right.

A marching wall, bearing down on civilians until resistance falls
Products of man, we reached for god and the devil held out his hand.
No hope in death, we'll feed the beasts we raised to bury men.
And with their hands, they'll shred the flesh their flesh was born to protect.

The end, we've written, in hubris all of our terror in fruition.

The strands, we're breaking, we pull apart the world
And reassembled the pieces rarely work out.

It's here a force to push us on, leading a horde of the blind.
The weak it shepards on & on, into impending night.
And those who turn toward the sun, respecting right.

Atop the cities we can watch as men fall.
To their knees with the blood of innocents washed.
Inside the labs where we carelessly played god.
A dream we proudly hailed as part of the cost.
Nothing can ever be as real as the loss.
We feel each time we look inside the mirror.

Demon men, we've bred, to lead our culture toward the light have
Turned like wolves upon the creatures that imbued their life.
Mangled heaps of bone and gore are all that's left behind and
The Piillars marching on until all man dies.

March On, March Til Man Falls...