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, cars paces over the body

Monuments to our destruction

A mixture both terrible and beautiful

The flames rise the pulse of primal existence

The grinding repetition such dullness the edges seem to fade

It burns away the black day gone