There's ***** on the ground
A few puddles of **** a bit further on down
There's blood all up the wall
A few drops trickling towards the floor.

Coagulated, it's a sticky dark brown
It's starting to smell like iron filings, ground
Mixed with the reek of bleeding raw meat
Just like the butcher's at the end of the street

The sirens are slowly beginning to call
Everything's slowed down, as ever closer they crawl
The guard dogs, stood loyal, bark and they howl
The creeping smell of a rotting soul turns this winter air foul

The uniforms they've now arrived on the scene
Somewhere in the distance, as always, is the wail of a scream
Over a screeching megaphone they've said to stay calm
It's a bit late for that, as they get back in their cars

Nobody will come down this godforsaken road anymore
They said they'd abandon it; they did- they swore
Out of respect for the dead, the papers they said, wrote
Heart wrenching eulogies with lumps in their throats

And now the smell lingers on while the cobwebs remain
Through the shattered windows you can see the carpets still stained
The radios left blaring, and the kids dropped their toys
But there's no sign of life here, just a constant white noise.