Abandoned fields at the core of the hope
That once carried the weight of the fallen
Life's rotten tree with the last poisoned fruits
Still tempting the weakest men
The well of mankind is the womb of the earth
Bleeding the poisoned blood from the soil
Yet the roots of greed are dwelling within
In every man and at their tombs
It's the weight of the fallen
The sleigh of a thousand stones
A man without guilt is a man without sin
A brother or father, all killing their kin
Drunken by greed, harvesting same seeds
And the blood flows back to these soils
Like dead without a grave or death without sleep
The roots of greed are dwelling within
In every man, in every grave
The weight of the fallen