When your ancestors came to these hills
and felt only hunger for their neighbors gardens
I believe a pit formed in your bloodline

with each generation as your wealth bloomed into 
a foul gummy flower your greed swelled with 
with equal measure 

posioned soaked barks from corrupted creeks
spilled forth, allowing your taint to seep further
into your Usher homestead 

a copperhead rank fills the nostrials, 
a miasma billowing from your buildings
delicate white petals as rot swirls within wood grain

the bloody ichgor from your robber barron mines
is squeezed from an unfortunate harvest of desperate,
desolate, and devastated 

a lot casted with devils, so admist this ruined empire
your souls will forever be bound to the lives crushed 
beneath this Northwest Passage of profit 

Until God finally looks upon this line, grimaces and signs you 
off to hell’s slaughter house. Plump from the excess
of misdeeds and bottomless pits.