Wrenched

In the yard of the old man 
The ruin's shimmering 
The world's painted pale 
The conditions are at stale 
Flocks gathered from far away 
Hiding, still overly aggressive 
Generations they will slay 
Not really regressive 
A dead end cave 
Home of the brave 
The world fools no one 
Grace me with hammering rest 
Keep an eye on the sea 
Imagine what we would be 
Rushing to the shores 
God of all damn wars 
Wrenched beyond recognition 
No such thing as human intuition 
Feel free to turn the supreme ignition