incinerator

skeletons built to last in concrete, like tombstones in these barren lands, standing so strong in reflection, against the pale grey sky, these suburbs are full of zombies, infected by plague and festering boils, foul scent of the rotting ones, the decaying remains of a happier time, children of black coffins, awaiting to be sincerely torn, bones are crushed by machinery, their dust will be spread by the storm, inexhaustible crowds of graveyards, condemned to a life of rats, overwhelmed by endless torment, the ones above are laughing at you, children of suburban wastelands, awaiting to be ground into sand, hopes are being crushed by machinery, their souls are burning across the land