(Dialogue kicks in after first few bars)

Through a tunnel carved in dead mens bones

the living went to hell

the stoker fed the flaming mouth

as the hammer struck its knell

 

The landscape flattened beneath the plain

its rivers turned to dust

strange tepees ripped ragged by blackened rain

sit fragile on the crust

 

Passengers cling to souls long sold

confessions too late to speak

they will not endure to grow ever-old

for they were not the meek

 

As downward-downward still they surge

descending into fire

the darkest of them all are purged

as hell-flames venture higher