Newly planted tower
Grows from the ground and spills it's guts out on the sidewalk
Flat talk o'clock:
Rolls past the site of a flesh insurrection
Grabs his cash and hits the road,
His face is scarred and scabbed like the map of some
A speck of neglect.
Bombed out and leveled
To be clansed again.
[We'll bury this city in trash]
Builds up his believers
And takes charge.
Stains half of the swewer
With Chaos and Clover
And Charred Tongues.
Is this the dumpster of your dreams?
And who will be your nxt trash crusader?
The organs are rotting
On weak slabs.
The corpses of Buildings
With old stones.