No grave, no stone to mark. Just a rising column in the cold and dark. A fleeting monument to what once was. Erased by the flame, without a cause. The heat intensifies, a blinding glare. Melting away, sorrow and despair. Crematorium. Where shadows writhe and flames ignite. Crematorium. Consuming all, in endless night. Crematorium. A pyre built of sin and dread. Crematorium. The furnace claims the countless dead. The spirit ascends, or so they claim. While the body dissolves in a blistering flame. A sterile procedure, efficient and grim. Ending the journey, limb by limb. The air grows heavy, with a pungent scent. The stench of decay, darkly sent. From the depths of the chamber where all is consumed. A testament to life, utterly entombed. From the depths of suffering, a final truth unfolds. The fleeting spark of existence, a story to be told of ultimate silence, the void's embrace. No trace remaining, no time, no space. The bone calcifies, crumbles to dust. A memory fading, a sacred trust. Broken by fire, forever undone. Underneath the cold, indifferent sun. The cycle completed, from dust to dust. In the grim crematory, an unholy bust. Crematorium. Where shadows writhe and flames ignite. Crematorium. Consuming all, in endless night. Crematorium. A pyre built of sin and dread. Crematorium. The furnace claims the countless dead.