"For what profit is it to a man if he gains the whole world, only to lose his soul? What will man exchange for his soul?" -Book of Matthew

There's snakes in the garden, and the womb bears rotten fruit
A cruel wind is creeping in, reeking of vomited wine and stale sin
Pulsing through the nostrils, seeking another dead heart and somewhere to begin
A silent poison to kill a stillborn soul, an ancient whisper of darkness and fear
Petals have turned to dust, it's hell's flickering fires or bust

Death waits for no man
A skeletal hand rising from the sand
To rob us of our dreams and aspirations
Replacing with nothing our ideas and inspirations

A first class ticket to doomsday
A front row seat to armageddon
We stand on the bleachers cheering our doom
The bottom of the bottle, to the pit of hell, full throttle
Living death tempered in six billion slobbering breaths

Hell is for humans, the earth whispers to the forest bed
No vile deed undreamt, undone or unsaid
No mind in hell to rival the sickness in modern man's head
With hoof and claw, dance on their open graves
The human animal, at the end of his days

Hell is for humans, state our lovely forest friends
In flesh fed fires, they'll make beautiful amends
Lights out, and it's time to go to bed
Damned with the dinosaurs, dead.