Dawn Of The Dead

Transport for the living dead
The means to the end
Caged in at first light
Staggering back the same night

Staying on rails through the day
There’s no other way
Flesh gasping for air
From board til they make it there

Shuffling off without thought
At their journeys end
Towards their prison
With no true reason

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About Greg Moss

25 year old English and Media Graduate based in Manchester, UK. Contact me at: literatureandlethargy@gmail.com
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