Оригинален текст
Hear the cries of our soul-less suffering
we are born into thorn-like chains
would you choose life and all of its pain
if you had the comfort of a day's refrain?
the seeds we have sewn, like weeds they have grown
into mostrosities of towering steel and concrete
the more we produce, the more we'll consume--the cycle never ends
there is no rest...
the worst is still yet to come