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Neon black tanks grope the skyline. |
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Neon black cocks rot into poison wine. |
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Neon black flowers on the mass grave. |
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Neon black corpses, stacked, eclipse the horizon. |
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Neon black whip, war gang hiss; |
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while Devastator sips from the crystal chalice. |
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Neon black lemonade drip drips from his grin crammed with cool charm, |
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culture and opulence. |
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The bayonets clamor on all night, hemming scars into the hillside. |
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Devastator sleeps under satin sheets. |
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"Death campaigns are a fucking gold mine." |
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And all the swine at the cabaret lick their lips as they clap along. |
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Devastator, in a negligee, does a strip tease while he sings this song: |
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"Everybody needs a little Devastation!" |
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Neon black dirt in the garden. |
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All the roses blossom into the skulls this season. |
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Neon black branches hanging from the trees. |
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Every limb is empty, robbed of pleasant memories. |
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The fields are throbbing fresh cut bruises. |
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Devastator violates with dirty fingers. |
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Neon black flames cook the calm air. |
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The party's over, what was your favorite gift? |
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Neon black future charging like a bull with a funeral bouqet ready to explode. |
