A sign of the decay of the city in front of me. Crackling shells creeping their way through the gloomy dark.
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Roaches creep and scatter before my footfalls.
A sign of the decay of the city in front of me. Crackling shells creeping their way through the gloomy dark.
Decaying.
Decaying.
It all falls down around my deaden footfalls.
Decay. Decay.
Scarlet whores lying on the oil soaked street.
Their vulgar sex dripping with cheap pleasure.
The scent of the decay of the city crawling in and out of them.
Decay. Decay.
The ground slick with lust and pain.
Spilling with the putrid rolling hate that makes it mark over them all.
Decay.
Decay.
The tolling of bells signals the end of our time here.
Broken promises that head our final demise.
Decay.
Decay.
All the cuts biting this place are just a machination.