It was a killing time, when death was in season.
Gunpowder seeds sown in a wanton cast
Ripened to crimson-corpse crops, coming up daily
Harvested to mindless tunes of failing heartbeats.

It was a killing time, when death was in season.
When terrorized eyes, those windows of the soul
Became hell's own antechambers of agony dying hard,
Mired in a final retreat and ultimate solitaire.

It was a killing time, when death was in season.
Where rolling thunder too often became Exterminating Angel
Sparing the body at the price of your soul:
Seek a purge to the begging reproach in a dying man's eyes!

Nameless places, dead faces, frozen pain all in vain from when
It was a killing time and death was in season.