I can hear the drums of war sound, Battle lines drawn, as bruised fists pound, On books, on walls, on faces and doors. Marching drives the beat through the ground. Gangs and tribes and movements grow Looking to claim what they think they’re owed. The proud and the pride, everyone picks a side Us or them, left or right, yes or no. Instigators demonise, With twisted truths and poisoned lies. Collecting followers as graves collect flowers Watered by Mothers’ eyes. And all the while, you can hear the drumming Wild things snarl and flies are humming. It’s fight or flight, day becomes night And the Storm is Coming… I stand across from you on the field Look into your eyes and I tell you to yield. Admit you’re wrong! You’re weak, I’m strong. Acknowledge your fate is sealed. In this time of insurrection, I’m consumed by this viral infection Blood and bile and rage most vile. I am screaming at my own reflection. And all the while, you can hear the drumming Wild things snarl and flies are humming. It’s fight or flight, day becomes night And the Storm is Coming… The Storm is Here.

George stumbled into his hotel bathroom head ringing from a combination of his obnoxiously loud alarm clock and the toxins still making their way through his system. He squinted into the mirror, eyes still bleary, trying to evaluate how little effort was required to get him presentable for the 10 o’clock meeting. He ran his fingers through the mop of black hair on the top of his head, and tugged at his clothes, trying to eliminate enough creases so it wouldn’t be obvious he’d slept in them. Assessing his jawline and decided he just had time for a quick shave. Smearing lather over the offending areas then scraping an old disposable razor over his every inch of his puffy reddened muzzle. George cupped his hands under the running tap, then splashed the cold water over his face. He looked into the mirror once more and seeing the water dripping down his cheek a memory rose unbidden from the inky blackness of the previous night’s amnesia. Reflected back at him he saw her face cheeks wet with tears screaming out begging for him to let her be. To leave her alone. George shrugged. “Georgie Porgie, Pudding and Pie, Kiss the girls or make them cry…” He pulled his tie out from his pocket, and started to tie it around his collar. As he straightened it he noticed in the mirror a mark of red marring his otherwise plain white shirt. Shit! He checked his face again Hunting for the offending cut tissue paper in hand. Yet he found none. It wasn’t his blood. Another memory bubbled up. The Boyfriend. All floppy hair, skinny jeans and hipster cardigan. He’d asked George to stop trying to talk to her. Like she wouldn’t be interested. Like he was better because he’d gotten there first. A pain shot through George’s hand noticeable now that his throbbing skull was starting to subside. Bruised and blackened knuckles glared accusingly back up at him. He only hit him once. Square in the middle of that pretty boy face. She wouldn’t like him so much with a broken nose. But he fell down so hard onto the bar’s tiled floor and he didn’t get back up. Before George knew it She was sat down there with him cradling his head in her lap. Her face soaked with tears. Screaming and wailing. He didn’t get back up. George considered his point made, grabbed his jacket, stumbled out of the bar and off into the night, the sound of her pleas for help barely audible as he loudly hailed a taxi in order to get back to his hotel. He didn’t get back up. George was snapped out of his memories by the sound of heavy thumping and loud voices at the door to his hotel room, and George knew he wasn’t going to make it to that 10 o’clock meeting.

I am the product of Industry, break these chains and set me free. I am the dirt that goes unseen. Always sterile, never clean. We're all cogs, we're incomplete. In a machine that's obsolete. Yet we just keep moving on, as our lives drift into oblivion. Untested. Infested. Ingested. Digested. Infected. Inspected. Injected. Dissected. Eat the new burger, drink the new beer. Vote for new government or a new career. Hope that it will bring relief, but it's the same old monster with brand new teeth. Type on the keyboard, bang on the drum, live in the suburbs, die in the slum. Go for your dream, while there's still time, or stay a machine in the production line. Untested. Infested. Ingested. Digested. Infected. Inspected. Injected. Dissected. Flesh on concrete, bones of steel, silicon brain, it does not feel. Feeds on dreams from every boy and girl, and shit's shiny plastic into the world. We, the dung beetles, all swarm around, to marvel at the new crap we found. I sell my soul, to buy a piece for me, ‘cause I was told it was good by the man on TV. Untested. Infested. Ingested. Digested. Infected. Inspected. Injected. Dissected. I leave behind an empty bed. Urine yellow and blood red. The company would like to apologise, for the inconvenience to any other lives...

This vicious game is nature’s way A deadly dance, this fatal ballet. Another couple enters the fray: It’s Predator and Prey, Predator and Prey. The cycle continues, day after day, the thrill of victory, the pain of dismay One will devour, one will decay It’s Predator and Prey, Predator and Prey. The hunter looks out over the plains Eyes are wide, his senses strain. He searches the land for signs of a beast that can end his hunger, become his next feast. But he’s unaware, approaching unseen, a large cat stalks, downwind from the scene. Long fangs bared, his muscles tense it leaps at the figure, no time for defence. This vicious game is nature’s way A deadly dance, this fatal ballet. Another couple enters the fray: It’s Predator and Prey, Predator and Prey. The cycle continues, day after day, the thrill of victory, the pain of dismay One will devour, one will decay It’s Predator and Prey, Predator and Prey. The pounce, the strike, barely a fight, claws plunge deep, teeth flash white. The figure stock still, rooted to the ground, attacker frozen too, not a move, not a sound. No blood filled his mouth when took his first bite. A serum left him numb, filled with fright. The bait taken, a deep roaring sound. A circle of teeth emerges from the ground. This vicious game is nature’s way A deadly dance, this fatal ballet. Another couple enters the fray: It’s Predator and Prey, Predator and Prey. The cycle continues, day after day, the thrill of victory, the pain of dismay One will devour, one will decay It’s Predator and Prey, Predator and Prey. Emerging from below the surface a huge mouth starts to close with purpose. The patient behemoth, wait now done consumes the feast attached to its tongue. Yet the monster’s too big to realise the collar and lead attached to it’s prize Tries to dive but there’s a hook in its face the line pulls tight and it’s taken to space. This vicious game is nature’s way A deadly dance, this fatal ballet. Another couple enters the fray: It’s Predator and Prey, Predator and Prey. The cycle continues, day after day, the thrill of victory, the pain of dismay One will devour, one will decay It’s Predator and Prey, Predator and Prey.