Harvest Of The Carcass by New Lows
Pale plastic orange pill cylinders pour warmth over worn and weeping wounds confused and torn Agony's grabbed me by my fragmented jagged limbs nagging pains lingering under the skin The second hand is stabbing the sides of this ravaged race where only sleek savages will survive. Anguish hangs over like a jaundicing halo Above languished skulls which shine from the glow.