Monuments of disgust, lusting destructive wreck, will soon meet certain death. It must come fast and will strike with sweet, swift blows. Trust in this, as it will come much sooner than thought by common individuals--Bourgeosie, crooks of a common ancestory, villains of similar descent.

Downward, the sky's wrath shall be released with a quintessential desperation, an effort like no being has ever committed to the likes of civilization. Breathtaking, breathe easy, and heave those lungs until reaching queasy--It is one of few states i trust these days. Dust--It lays in all the places left untouched.

Fleeting fledglings despair in all but rare occasions, licking cracked limps with moist, but soiled, tongues in raging contempt--Temptation. Raize what buildings are left. The time will come to rise.

Sour scorn tares limbs from torn trunks, target the same weakened sapling time and time again! Hearts have limitations that only break all the time, and seeking out the dying still weakened the herd.