City pretty shitty, but kind to mind the dead

Steaming manhole cover-ups for the toxic brigade. Running, crawling in the unders, trapped by the light of day. The gentle lamb crushed on concrete cannon cracks, and taken away for slaughter. Forgotten, thrown, tossed aside the inside out, and fed for masses of mindfucks. Shake it punk, luminescent skunk clear and quiet as the down stroke junk. The heart stopper, liquid dropper to fill the canals and reach the center of it all. Mine burns the midnight fantastic, cloud sailing across the countryside tide; the new day approaches like roaches that hide, to the underside. Again to begin the ending song of silence, profound.

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