of a life decayed.
of a life betrayed.
in the coolest breeze.
to the sweet serenade.
to knock the buildings down.
from the highest clouds.
this sound is so obscene.
they're swinging in the wind.
There is no blessed saviour there is no blessed sin there is only the sounds of bodies as they are swinging in the wind. The smell of 3 day death down each deserted street as the dogs pick their way between the bodies in defeat.
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