...help-line...
Death has come...
...and its wings pears the sky...
Bleeding the sulfur dry...
...like a mega-bomb...
To the super-sonic impact...
That shatters my insides...
So the vultures in the skies...
...glide and pounce intact...
In this underworld of mine...
Where I can't find a way out of here...
Or a plan to disappear...
...or a momentary help-line...
