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Trigger The Bloodshed
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Terminus
Neglected, the last few exist, defeatist to every last shimmer of hope*
Genuflected, with misty pallid eyes, a procession of survivors invoke,
Their own euthanistic last rites, the postulation of eternal rest unscathing,
In a benevolent subhuman conduct, they leave themselves hung as a warning,
Our future if now, our future is never, our future is dead,
Paralytic, suspended in the harsh winds above the once soaring edifices, now razed,
The remains floating in a hadean paradise, laying in the once fecund soil,
The foundations that bore the weight of a past assiduous mankind,
Could not support that which we became, an industrial biotic machine,
Crushing all mother nature has sheltered from us, drawing on
Everything she found strength for,
Pulling the fear of God into humanity, oppressing the ever broadening populace,
With her metaphysical cataclysms,
Our future is now, our future is never, our future is dead,
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The aeon of recession has stricken,
And will reduce mankind to mourning,
Torching stramping, drowning, asphyxiating,
And humanities mindless abolishment, a force has been bred,
Rapidly escalating, enveloping us, carnivorously putting itself to perpetual end,
Merciless is the lord reigning in his sky,
Watching as humanity scrapes its way to die,
The scornful eye of providence fucks us into ill being,
Expatriated into hate from a balanced state of pity,
The last remaining city will be immolated,
Our future is now, our future is never, our future is dead.
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