Streets are dead in many ways
as ever looms the reapers snare.
Those asleep have now arisen,
that vacant swarm with deathly glare.
A deadly tide of hungering souls,
for whom the church bell gloomingly tolls.
A windswept scape engulfed by death
and patrolled by corpse with stifled breath.
Tomorrow has nowt' but a bite,
an endless plight of fight or flight.
With future plagued my final sigh
succumbs to fates cold lullaby.