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Some still swear to hear the infrasonic disturbance
The rattle of the seismic waves
Centuries old yet driven firmly
Into subconscious minds of the new offspring

What is
Is what should be
What is
Is what must be
What is
Is what will be

Handmade Suns conjured out of thin air
Gases devouring flesh and crippling minds
Mutations lasting for centuries
The face of the landscape reshaped
For millennia to come

Autonomous unmanned aircraft
Scorching the corpse of the city
Decades after the last man had been seen
In the forgotten works

Let the utter silence of the charred souls
Be forever sealed
In the black soundless sugar.

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