A mother sobbing,
a raging mob.
What we need is people
to do their job.
A cop stands still
amidst the crowd.
To **** or…be killed?
His head is bowed.
Lock the door and
set the alarm.
So simple a task
to keep some from harm.
Collecting a paycheck,
is easy to do.
But there’s a lot more
we expect of you.
By the time that you
become a grown up
you should have learned
it’s important to show up.

They were human once, it is said.
Now they torture the living
and abandon their dead.
Like their predecessors
of the same name,
killing is their pleasure
and destruction their game.

Their Dark Lord sits upon his throne
in Sochi, where his mind dwells alone.
To unite all, under his dark reign,
as subjects, or slaves—to Him, all the same.
No longer in Thangorodrim does He dwell.
He rules now from Moscow, and seeks
an Empire of Hell.

Hell is created
by the ORCS whom he orders.
Their blood lust to be sated
far beyond  Russia’s borders.
Destruction they rain from the skies above
on people who flee
from all that they love.

They were human once,
and perhaps even Him.
Now they are beyond
the world’s Creation
and we call on Varda
to vanquish him.

The Ogre does what ogres can,
Deeds quite impossible for Man,
But one prize is beyond his reach,
The Ogre cannot master Speech:
About a subjugated plain,
Among its desperate and slain,
The Ogre stalks with hands on hips,
While drivel gushes from his lips.

everything i stand for is alien here
everything i despise is rife
death is glorified at every corner
and trampled upon is life

you're not supposed to speak
but you're required to believe
kindness is called weak
and you're not allowed to grieve

war is peace, they say
ignorance is strength
now i find myself cast away
where lies are being fed at length

i gaze, unblinking, into the abyss
it gazes back, calling my name
i've always felt there's something amiss
with this wicked, cruel game

the game i chose not to play
the game that has no rules
the game you can't expect to win
the game so loved by fools

I’m a lone gunslinger
with a broken trigger finger.
I’m an old firefighter
with a gas can and a lighter.
I’m a spy undercover
with a double agent lover.
I’m the blind preacher
who has Satan for a teacher.
I’m the hangman
with a noose around my neck.
I’m the ship’s cat,
sunbathing on the deck.
The apocalypse is here
and we’re all going to heck.