Write a farewell to the aliens
crawling up the back steps,
cross the threshold to post existence,
evaluate snapshots of poor lost souls
crumbled moments,
When they fall over the edge
of a spiraling waterfall only to be caught
in the palm of the devil.

Welcomed with opening arms
the sick and twisted find comfort
in the warmth of a thousand
burning souls.

Far from where it was left sitting,
A cold metal can is thrown
from a rusted over train car
carrying on a message for
the wicked kids,
remaining away over the horizon
running through cold dark streets
every step closer to the waterfall.