Grasping for withered hope
To this poison love we all cling
False mercy
Death in bloom Opportunistic vultures
Bones of workers picked clean
Torch wielders
Street sweepers
War promise
Burning down the night
I will hold you with molten arms
Look upon you with eyes of matted tar
You tremble with fear at your creation
It's shadow spills over like an army of starving kids in the trench
I will give them weapons
I will send them against you