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There is something grey before the dawn something burning Bodies in their black bags consigned to the flame Bathing in the flame of a burning ache through my core As creatures we are trying to crawl back through the creation to the worm A holocaust the feral gene Deadly strychnine taking hold wrapping itself round every sinew What is left a burning seething mass The air dank with the heady odour of decadence Choking out the decadence leaves emptiness Scared with scars carspaces over the body Monuments to our destruction A mixture both terrible and beautiful The flames rise the pulse of primal existence The grinding repitition such dullness the edges seem to fade It burns away the black day gone |
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