Out past the cooking fields,
our dinner bakes inside the ground.
There’s a place where we can fall in love
again, just outside the town.
We were born to devastation
in the city of Furnas.
At the end of all creation,
which we were raised to watch.
And we passed away in fire together
in the gardens of Furnas.
We left the angry world forever
and watched the locusts burn to frost.
While they were shooting
for the mayor of Chicago,
We stepped through the water on stones.
Tumbling in, I caught you,
flesh of flesh, we strike our bones,
our bones against the stones.
We live in contemplation now
as spirits of Furnas.
We feed on elevation
from the pilgrims of the flocks.
Together we live forever
inside the Gardens of Furnas.
We hunt the angry living statues
and melt their frozen hearts of frost.
