Carved out of stone, earth, blood and bone knock the mountains down the earth's grating sounds they soothe the great machines that yearn desperately just to lay them down within her gaping mouth more than a symbol more than I bargained for they wander ridges high between the earth and sky like spikes upon a crown we wear upon our brow and want is not a need reserved for human beings it's fingers on your throat is pain that all things know An army of the golems is stalking, now, the heart's lands eating all reality producing only dust and sand nothing hurts them nothing gets under their stone skin and when their earthern mouths will open up just what words should come out? but "we wish we were dead"