| Dead radar flowers beneath the skies |
| Those suffering ghosts of dying life |
| They wait for saviours from above |
| Their land’s wasted and cursed |
| The viral transmission is lost |
| Broken thoughts in broken minds |
| They are damaged paralysed |
| With the coins on the eyes |
| They are searching for the paradise |
| They’ve burned the air they hear the voice |
| That comes from strangers through the noise |
| Intoxicated by blind faith |
| They’re trying to keep the weak signal up |
| And follow the digital wraith |
| Broken thoughts in broken minds |
| They are damaged paralysed |
| With the coins on the eyes |
| They are searching for the paradise |
| Finding nothing anywhere |
| They are screaming in despair |
| Left and lost in burning skies |
| They are damaged paralysed |