[Lyric] ​pontiacs conifers ii (supine)

Who surveys the rocks that gather in the creek?
Who loosens them?
Who owns the levy, the toil, and the leaves
Blown from far-off trees?

Do we have to give this role to the state?
It’s the same aftermath, that will never change:

Fake gold, feigned hope
Same holes, new place

Do we have to give this role to the state?
It’s the same aftermath, that will nevеr change
There’s profit couchеd in compassion
Workers’ wage stays the same