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The worms; they pile upon the last piece of dust

for just one taste of what life once was

but not us

we are the ones that hide from the sun

with bullet speed on burning black wings

we reject the cross

and nihilism's noose

dying star, destroy the last of flesh

cursed by the age of cold

nothing left on withered earth

fret for your weapon

fret for your gold

we cling to cave walls like rotted teeth

with bullet speed on burning black wings

we watch the worms writhe from underneath