There's no joy left in this town
The hate and debate scorches
No birds, no breath, no sound
Souls cruxified on top of torches

Light hits the walls but that's all
It can't reach inside the dark
Too deep and Soulrot hides inside
It cowers and glowers covered in bitemarks

Self-obtained, on display, the rot itself
Wide-eyed, feral, slack jaws, rotten skin
And it's skin reflects it's soul, it's skin is Hell
They twist their faces sickly smile, they know we let them win

It's the fallout of fallouts
A vacancy of convenient morality
In the dark, the Soulrot crawls out
They bask in sin with a sense of finality

They sit and they stare
On everything and everywhere
This town isn't quite gone or forgotten
This town isn't dead, it's rotten.