He was standing erect by the edge of the cliff
And was looking at the ocean of the night
The beast was lying on the ground of the world
Dead, or rather pretending to be
Further away, on the square
Children in a heap, were lying dead
Piled on top of one another
Covered with blood as if they had been lacerated with a razor blade
Next to them was a heap of prams
Piled on top of one another
Cut open, torn apart...
This was the inheritance of the men
This was the inheritance of the flesh Hunters
Just like a flame that glows
ifeel pulled towards the bottom
For a screaming dawn
Here we are, transparent, falling to the bottom
Wait for me before being re-born
The night is so dense in this fractured world
Don't leave me on my own
On a dead continent
In a blind world
Look, the Death squadron is back
For centuries now, they will rule in luxure

Alan Woxx © 1990