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 | 
