All the old souls are dead
Bony fingers brushed the arcane sky
Now lie in graves of sawdust
Sparks, their incendiary goodbye

All the old souls are dead
What once stood as figureheads against the eye
Now under feet of rock and glue
They bide their time, they did not die,

All the old souls are dead
And now they lay, in silent bury
They lie in wait for the day
When the ground splits and they rise
From their tarmac cemetery.