The Triumph of Death
First the skeletons marched on our rivals & we couldn’t have been more uplifted – look at all the effort they are saving us!
Then when the skeletons rounded on artists & outlaws we spoke from both sides of our mouths, abandoning compassion & truth. Our backs were turned. Our hearts grew cold.
Next the skeletons gunned for the sick & unsightly inside our fold & so we, who once were one & godly, expelled our sick & unsightly & left them to die a torturous death all alone outside the fold.
At that, the skeletons, no longer required, sailed away once again in their platinum galleons, scything the seas in return from whence they had come – west of the sun – for the harvest.
Henceforth were we the skeletons, & out we fanned with gibbets-on-wheels flaying to skeletons all whom we found man woman or child until everyone saving ourselves had been skeletoned, religiously.
Then, able no longer to do any other, we straightaway walled ourselves in to a camouflaged trench in the side of a hill for geology.