Deadwalker

If you were going to be wicked you should have picked a brighter path
To tread your shoddy, old boots upon,
But instead, you and your foolish ways, just continue to make the same a*s
Of yourself that every other dirt-walker has done.

Twisted trails of stone so worn and caked in various s**t and clay that one more boot
Could not possible make any shear difference in the scheme of things.
I don't know what you think you could possibly root
What weeds were not already growing out of control within the cracks' rings.

If trailing dirt and fecal matter so appease you,
I'm guessing it would be no surprise to find your rotting corpse is filled with the same.
Zombie, remind me how I hate you so and your faded hue.
The same kind of wild that God couldn't tame.