Corpses line the tomb yard in a fading sun's dying light
A bloody rain cleanses their innards, a feast upon the fruitful flesh of life
Ripped to shreds
A rotting hand emerges from the grave, bathed in dirt and sweet decay
To tear the limbs from the torso of all who pulse with the putrid form called life
Reality fragments, as the beginning becomes the end
And life, a festering memory, defeated by carnal appetite