Industrial Revelations

Smokestacks,
Stained glass,
Limousines.
Everyone is pretty and
Everyone is diseased.
My whole field of vision is tinted green
In this world of haunted, haunted things.

All the fancy people have filthy reputations,
All the filthy people have fancy aspirations,
But they all gather for the celebration
Of Industrial Revelations.

Polluted lungs, superficial eyes,
Sodomized morals and polluted minds.
The shadow's been cast, is this a sign?
Wealth can't stop the end of times.

I'll float among them like a ghost.
Long live the parasite, spit out the host.
This wasteland is what they crave the most,
Then they all rise to make a toast.

Your 15 minutes are up and you're forgotten,
Treated like a god until you are dead and rotten.

Who is next?
Who is next?
Who will entertain them now?

All the fancy people have filthy reputations,
All the filthy people have fancy aspirations,
But they are all handing out the invitations
To Industrial Revelations.