An army is being made
Dead souls, crushed hopes
Our very minds they invade
They shout, they splutter, they slap red faced
Trying to suppress us

An army it is, in a way
Countless men, bereft of dreams
Nooses on our necks they belay
They glare, they sneer, they stare with disdain
Trying to suppress us

An army of the forlorn
Like switches, with two defaults
The *** of green turns them on
They follow the little antenna where plasures are born
Trying to suppress us

We think, we try, we hope
They follow, they attempt, and die
We are numbered, each death a loss
They keep coming, a stack of meat and a shield of flesh
And yet we survive
The very essence of humanity protecting our souls