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Wednesday, January 24, 2007


Here comes the musical undead marching band
With rusted nails for fingers in blood crusted hands
They step together, forward ominous and vast
Their horns blow out firey furious death blasts

The windows shut tight and doors bolted thick
Marching bone feet shake the buildings and brick
Drone zombies stare at the dawn's bare crack
Their eye sockets emptied and hollow and black

The citizens of this town hide in their cozy dark homes
In hopes that they don't become solemn dark tombs
Underneath furniture and locked quiet in the basement
Locked away praying, their faith tested and hell bent

The death march continues on through the place
Baton twirling clown monster with makeup on his face
Their steps move together like a septic army of ants
Unspoken choreography for the Final Judgement dance

The shaking of the ground soon slowly subsides
Onto the next town, the marching band strides
New members of the march seem to always appear
These towns forever shadowed in their blankets of fear

AP 01.24.07

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