
Slithering from the tunnels, blue slime
bursts upwards out of a hundred holes.
The wash ejaculates in thousand feet high pillars
appears to hover then plunges back to earth
flooding the streets
City dwellers stand transfixed in their shoes
or are washed away in the forceful deluge
Remaining folk watch in awe, wondering
if home was a place they would see again
In the sky path of the pungent rain
the army of the dead arrive in numbers
They come from the South
forming a black saltire above the city
A battle craft carries their leader
It hovers over the large cathedral
The blond being descends, turns and speaks
I, Wrath take the keys
The unclean will be swept away
All who shall live with me
shall prosper, the others shall perish
His eyes blaze round like a lighthouse beam
At that, the slime clears back to the holes
and the troopers take to the streets
No one goes home or questions the order