Rise from the ashes of a neon disgrace.
All to be a lock for this new rat race.
Born from chaos bred with speed.
Pinnacle of which is complete greed.
With a shotgun serving of time to die.
Alongside bodies who never got to say goodbye.
Each one a victim of what has been formed.
Who will be next piggie to be scorned.
Does it even matter when the wolves have a key?
Too late chump you’ll soon be dinner for three.
Get to your knees and pray all you like.
Will have no impact on if you survive the night.
Crushed by division.
Holding on to lack of vision.
Deicide will take a ride.
Remember to open up…
All the hate you like to keep inside.
With eyes of blood and hands of gold.
They who remain will wrongly fold.
Kick back all blame right onto you.
Until your number is but a scarce few.
Yet do not think that means end is sight.
For that is but a hand of sleight.
With treachery once more crowned as king.
Something that will surely again bring…
Barbarity out of shadows in massive droves.
To ravage all the fields of healthy cloves.
Transform this Eden to a hellscape that’s fried.
Crushed by division.
Holding on to lack of vision.
Deicide will take a ride.
Tempt you to settle on violent suicide.
Simon A Jackson - Writer 