I want the rain to wash away the grime From this filthy living corpse. Its dross filled pores And a life cloaked in rust ridden slime.
Dumped grot covers me. Exhaled from the mephitic breath Of a thousand septic chimneys refusing to fast. Spewing out **** Drowning all us luckless souls in muck.
The inevitable residue of greed Deposited by those with no belief in the End of time.
A planet of zombies Wading through a mire of death. Only waiting for the time They reach the END.