Zombies walk the streets starving;
Because our brains lack any sustenance,
The vultures turn back, sensing the lies
Succumbed in our new spines
As if they knew we were just dressed up skeletons,
No use are firing lines, none to the famine-
We are experts in seduction and not in our salvation,
But the only hope is hopelessness,
S. King or a king had once said
The only true spoil of war is that
the victorious can bury their dead,
Apocalypse by capitalism, what a century to be-
Born into these corporation catacombs,
And it was our grandparents that were the catalyst of our
Supposed grandeur sense of self,
But their first breath was as pure as rain,
Our first downfall was acid
Oh, the glory of freedom in our generous genocides
