Skin but no marrow
Flesh without soul
A hollow specularum lacking in depth
And not realizing its own nature

Minds have gone narrow
Seeking no goal
Staying on the surface, avoiding the sea
It's too much effort to swim downward

It's all so superficial
Where do we go
In this sepulchre of the half-living

Their words are so idle
Then they drift away
To go sacrifice to the god of mediocrity
And burn all their cares as an offering

Seeking comfort in that idol
With their sense they pay
Refusing to see the void they spend time in
And blind to the possibility of escape

It's all so superficial
Where do we go
In this sepulchre of the half-living

And the golems go on, oblivious