Sins of the Fathers

See this desert, my son
This is our gift to you
You must build your vision here
Upon these ashes
With the sweat of your brow
And the blood upon your hands
You must earn your future
Or perish with the land
I bore the sins of my fathers
Now you shall bear mine
And your children after you
All that changes is the time
Now I leave you, my son
The world is in your hands
You must earn your future
Or perish with the land
Hollow wasteland, I take the desert in my hand
Trampled spirit, turn your son into a man
I build the conscience from the ground
Reconstruct what you tore down