We had no chance,
and it takes and it takes and it takes,
it takes pounds of flesh and leaves
polluted waste in it's context.

Permission slips into seizure
-please let it be a scream-
grind organs on permadeath
and instant failure
without an afterlife
or consolation.

Consolation prizes,
trophy in defeat;
Suspect yet accepted.
Gifts from your enemies,
presents from your past,
disorders from reprise.
Changeless.