Cult Leader - Walking Wastelands

How many ways can I say how empty I feel?
How many days have been lost?
There's a fire burning somewhere, never to be found.
Proof is in the endless ashes, black snow, and spiraling smoke.
Every eye is a burning ember.
Every heart a scorched husk.
Walking wastelands hollowed out by pain.
Stepping on each others throats to get above the smoke.
Time heals nothing.
We will die here empty and alone.