Seasons in the Abyss

Out of the darkness we came dangerously into the light. No trumpetswere sounded as well leapt from the night and into the day. Our crafty genius was sure to steal our pain away. We heard their tires squealing as a few went a stray. The screams of their agony do not subside, even as in flames they died. Left unburied and in burning sun they rot, know their flesh reeks as the bodies decay.