The Living Dead

if we look inward we will soon discover a whole host of treasure to recover some have invested in images that plague the inner soul the are among us yet they are not of us they are the living dead with thoughts inside there head hiding out in the silence of the inner torment they can't help you cause they can't even help themselves there the blind leading the blind and soon will fall into a great ditch just like the night of the living dead there hearts are torn to self, sin & Satan eyes with spots having holes long hanging viscous fangs that bite dripping blood off of side they all run away & hide behind the false hidden garb of compromise can't they see through all those vain twisted lies does this come at any big enough surprise shallow peaks long in the silence of the underground demonic forces wrestling for there soul shallow pools of gloom in a saddening exploit of a soul vexation there afraid of fire I found that out there's a radio in the truck I jumped into listen to it there must have been tens of those things grabbing to hold on still we must be on are guard every minute of there tormented souls by now there are no more screams maybe 50 or 60 of those things standing there I just wanted to crush them scattered in the air like bugs a word to the wise always no where you are stepping