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