by Nick Gisburne
Look up. Together, listen for the bell
And pray for dreams to liberate your lives
Pathetic, stupid, naked, cursed by Hell
Believing some small piece of hope survives
Look up. The old, the crippled, and the sick
In darkness huddle closer, broken, blind
A sludge, a stink, repulsive, choking, thick
Infects the rotting remnants of your kind
Look up, to know the nature of the gift
A poison, to contaminate your breath
The end of all you were will not be swift
Be certain you are gathered here for death
Look up. I see the lowest of the low
Convulsing, as the gas begins to flow
