Easening, fore come the 
Dreary images of gorgeous past. 
Hectically they do breathe 
... spitting blood. 
Sobbing incontrollably 
Mourning it's own perished gripe 
... the sanguine reign of terror 
And millions of souls bereaved 
Libertine and wicked 
It stands proud and glorious 
... yet the rot's still visible 
(oh, it's a bridal shroud!) 
Taking over the roving grandeur. 
Ecstatic in it's failure 
The insanity progresses, 
Comes forth and forth and forth 
... ending in harrowing perdition. 
How many have been perished? 
How many have been expelled? 
... none shall be questioned 
Noone shall be returned. 
Clad in bones and unforgiving destiny 
Filled with reek of heartless centuries 
... colored in everlasting grey 
With blood of innocents. 
It burns, it rains, turning crimson red 
Disengaging and monstrously enlarging 
Consuming lives and devouring minds 
... a city, the kingdom in itself.