It was the year 2085,
love was dead,
hate was in the air.

All the resources used up,
millions of people killed by atom bombs,
mutants and other inhumans roam the the ruins of earth.


Survivors reside in a hidden city,
hardly enough food and water to go around,
some of them had to go.

The unlucky few forced on their knees,
everyone ignored their sobs and pleas,
tears and snot ran down their faces like rain down a window pane.

Please for mercy,
cries for God,
left their lips.

God was dead,
mercy was a luxury in this new world.

A cold barrel of a gun against their heads,
as cold as January ice,
as cold as the icy stare of the executioners.

One bullet for the back of each head.

They collapsed one by one,
like a building after a bomb goes off,
death is freedom from this wasteland.