• This is not a sad song.
    But one for children to sing along.

    Decrepid flesh paper the walls.
    Deep, rich red water falls.
    Smirks and cries of hurt and pain.
    Only for the vultures to gain.
    Dirty, jagged fingernails.
    Scrape onto your cheeks as you wail.

    For help and sanity, oh.
    Don't forget to stay before you go.

    Rumbling hearses line the streets.
    Gathering the old, the new and elite.
    Bubbling blackness seeps from the pores.
    Knocking down all buildings and doors.

    Sweet sugar hearts boil frozen.
    What once was said is now not chosen.

    This town is cursed.
    The city is worse.

    Run for the hills.
    Before this plague kills.