(Gers/Dickinson/Harris)
Out of the silent planet
Out of the silent planet we are
Withered hands, withered bodies begging for salvation
Deserted by the hands of gods of their own creation
Nations cry underneath decaying skies above
You are guilty, the punishment is death for all who live
The killing fields, the grinding wheels crushed by equilibrium
Separate lives no more disguise, no more second chances
Haggard wisdom spitting out the bitter taste of hate
I accuse you before you know the crime it's all too late
Out of the desert planet
Dreams of desolation
Out of the desert planet
Come the demons of creation
Out of the silent planet
Out of the silent planet we are
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