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 repetition such dullness the edges seem To fade It burns away the black day gone