Retribution

Our mother grows angry
Retribution will be swift
We squander her soil and suck out her sweet black blood to burn it
We turned money into God and salivate over opportunities to crumple and crinkle our souls for that paper, that gold
Money has spent us
Left us in small boxes, dark rooms, bright screens, empty tombs
Left investing our time in hollow philosophies
To placate the fear of our bodies returning back into our mother
Demand awakening
But the path we have taken has rotted
Ignite, stand upright, conduct yourself like lightning because
The retribution will be swift

[Inuit Throat Singing]