South with no signs of north

Pulse. Beating rhythms through the veins of the grid.
Warm wind wiping shadows where the mountains hid.
We descend to the depths where the glaciers melt,
Where the compass betrays every pull we have felt.


Scars on the map are erased by the heat,
Our blind little game is completely obsolete.

Припев
South. With no signs of the North to be found.
In this burning inferno, we seek solid ground.
No return to the frost, to the freezing domain,
Only blistering heat building temples of pain.


Hum. Fading out in the cables of steel.
We escaped from the snow, but the fire is real.
Under alien suns, every truth is laid bare,
An exhausting crusade through the desolate air.


Scars on the map are erased by the heat,
Our blind little game is completely obsolete.

Припев
South. With no signs of the North to be found.
In this burning inferno, we seek solid ground.
No return to the frost, to the freezing domain,
Only blistering heat building temples of pain.


Hands are frozen in place. Time is losing its weight.
Melted plastic dictates a bizarre new estate.
Epicenter of warmth tearing features apart,
Leaving nothing but voids in a digitized heart.



Припев
South. With no signs of the North to be found.
In this burning inferno, we seek solid ground.
No return to the frost, to the freezing domain,
Only blistering heat building temples of pain.

South...
With no signs of the North...
South...