A serrated sound shears through the industrial hum
A vocalized tremor that makes the heavy muscles come undone
It erupted from the throat of a man in a grease-stained coat
A spasm of madness that took the room by the throat
The air is a vector for the madness of the lungs
It travels in the saliva of a thousand wagging tongues
I watched the grin migrate like a fever through the wire
Setting the nervous systems of the factory on fire
The foreman is choking on a mirth he didn’t plan
As the biological friction consumes every man
The contagion is screaming in a chorus of the ribs
Drowning the warnings and the comfortable fibs
It’s a rhythmic eruption of a dark and holy light
Passing like a parasite through the graveyard shift at night
Break the skin of the silence let the sickness overflow
We’re choking on the rubble of the things we used to know