Clouds of fire devour the corroded sky, and the sun is now a dead eye that bleeds ceaselessly, while the streets spit out their wounded dead and the air burns the chest with a thirst for tar, for behind the rubble something lurks with rotten teeth, dragging its chains in a tribal echo, and the last man prays to a god who never existed, while the flames whisper to him that there will never be an end.
