Nickels Is Money Too

Climbing into fire, her hands are forceful
We're burying earth in earth
White hands, soft hands, carefully

This makes no sense
What's that sound I hear?
I'm lost in a state of confusion

Oh ground
I despise you, but rejoice in your essence
Envy will cease my sky
Greed will cease my sky

"Here's a farmer that hung himself on the expectation of plenty"
At this time I feel there is no bottom to earth

Tradition's dug the grave