In this Martian, barren land
Upon a rustic hill I stand
on this ground no being breathes
to allow for ghastly, ghoulish deeds.
Phantoms reek of mystic smells,
And devils ring their wailing bells
Whose voices warn of blasphemy
And sing of brewing agony.
No protest comes from those deceased,
Their bodies slain with frightful ease.
A sickle formed of lust and greed
Carried out this gruesome deed.
Gods bear witness to my crime
Condemning this sold life of mine.
The children vanish in the sand
and out protrudes their withered hands
I feel my burning blood on fire
As I amass this desert […]