I have experienced the agonizing murmurs of black flies
& have lived during the horrible stench
of our autumn’d modern decay
Each moment brings us closer to melt down
A countdown to the demise
of this migrating stone wasteland
This is a bitter wine to swallow
& yet I am thoroughly drunk
The roads are paved in crimson waves
& the towers are constructed of poor fool bones
Fortified with blood & sweat
“Here are some coins
for your oblivious misfortune”,
sings the cracking whip
Stroke & stroke
& stroke to the beat
of the masters redundant drum
Each day reborn with masochism