Late one night while the clock towers toll, fear and loathing gnawing at my soul,

Their airships rise, and their mechanoids roam
Scritching,

Clawing,

Taking,

Hating.
Reapers sound with their darts and grenades,

My roads paved white with their bones and their blades.
My dreams are voids–
–Husks
Insane!
Innocents,

Howizters,

And war
And pain!
When the cogs turn ‘round and the lanterns flood,

Chorenum and sedatives tango in my blood.
The doors slam closed on the lies and blame.
The doors slam closed on the guilt and shame.