My Rising Is Your Fall - Hanging Garden

Cursed be our mother the Earth

The harlot would breed no more

She took the seed oh many a time

Perfected by her firstborn son

We kept her on a leash of thorns

Made obedient with the sternest of bonds

Cursed be our mother the Earth

Her veins have run dry

Her loins, now barren, ridden of life

Her breast has long since withered away

We kept her on a leash of thorns

Made obedient with the sternest of bonds

Yet ever weaker has the bloodline grown

And ill spent the seed

She kept her silence all these years

Until the end