A monstrosity stretches
Fire up to the teeth
Back in the clergy of the underworld
All it took was two calls
A lick of road work
While collecting cries in a plastic bottle
The machine rumbles in your face
A blueprint fueled and funded
Finely tuned for war
Drilling everything
Escape plans
Stalking from the high ground
The priest chants
In the morning there will be an ambush
From a thousand sides
It’s no fun when the rabbit’s got the gun
Picked a fight with something hollow
Now a black hole rains down
Drowning out the last paltry flowers of joy
Perhaps it was a loud secret
Or chicken brains were at fault
But now the terms of service are up
Someone should’ve dealt the message
There is a repo man from across the world
Here in every trench