Inconceivable it is that somewhere on earth a
land exists
untouched by civilization's
hand. Try as we might to peer
through the
folds of the death grip. The overwhelming
human tide surging forward smothering
everything that
our twisted minds cannot
justify as worthy enough
to take a place in
this lie we call progress.
Scourge!
Scourge! Scourge! Scourge!
Unwilling
to let in the sun unable to escape what's been
done and our towers built like open wounds on
the land
that as each day passes begins to
more and more resemble
a vision of hell I
had as a child and the droning sounds
of
progress begin to resemble more and more
the coming of an endless locust swarm.
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