Inconceivable it is that somewhere on earth a land exists untouched by civilization`s hand. Try as we might to peer through the folds of the death grip. The overwhelming human tide surging forward smothering everything that our twisted minds cannot justify as worthy enough to take a place in this lie we call progress.
Scourge! Scourge! Scourge! Scourge!
Unwilling to let in the sun unable to escape what`s been done and our towers built like open wounds on the land that as each day passes begins to more and more resemble a vision of hell I had as a child and the droning sounds of progress begin to resemble more and more the coming of an endless locust swarm.
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