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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