These mountains of madness look like gaping sores
Like skeletal hands gripping you tight
Entangled in the plains of decay
Life becomes a travesty
Survival seems uncertain
The aspirations you had lie dead
You keep on screaming
But the sound comes back to you
In the form of a distorted whine
Vultures twist and turn above your head
Helpless… you regress to an infantile state
Fallen to the ground in a fetal position
Your rebirth equals your demise