• A Twilight's night breathes slightly and just right, in the night, while it fights to keep it dark.
    The adult and children, filling the night with sound sleeping, echoing in the barren land,
    While the Grim Reaper goes a reaping, and the sad grievers grow weeping.

    But when the loved ones are gone, and none are left to groan, I can hear the moans...
    The moans of the dead, who have risen again... To reap their reapers...

    No one will last, nor the cast, of a hot hit T.V. show.
    But when we're all dead, and even no kin, the earth will be covered in red.

    But don't worry, you wont see a thing. You'll have no head!
    In fact, no one could have said...
    "Hey what's that?" or "Is that a Bom-"

    For when the government finished, all we have and had left, was an anguished people...
    The taxes are gone, along with the company issued faxes, and the other people with a max.

    But today all we see, is the urban land we knew, under a sea of ruble. Just like me...
    Those people we trusted, absolutely must have had to be our demise...
    The only thing we can truly do, is blame our keepers up high.

    For they take out money... And pour it like sweet honey, into one another's pockets...
    Sharing it only with themselves, and the necessary, to make more money...

    While their researchers delve on the question of on how to do the very thing!
    And what did it leave them with? A land, which wasn't once so dry, or that'd now seem a
    myth

    All I can say to those greedy leaders of earth, is nothing short of a single breathe...
    For I wouldnt dare! Waste a single time of my, somewhat diminished life...

    Because their somewhat owned land, is already finished!
    Scorched with war! And pain, and suffering! And painted red with of the same peoples blood.

    Which means, therefore, thise land is nothing more, but a stained mark of rock,
    Embedded... On our earth...

    I wish, it wasn't like this.... The poor bleeding, dying, scavenging, people on this ugly rock...
    While those rich, snug, moronic controllers live out in space...

    Too bad they can't leave the base...
    So they can face... The sad creatures and creations they've made...

    They've left their trace of themselves, upon our shelves, which is the meanings of survival...
    Weapons, to break this down, and nothing better, to keep us safe and sound...

    But we don't use them, at least not anymore... We've learned better...
    Than to give those horrid ones an encore...

    So what did we do? Will we studied the leftovers!
    We are earth's scientists now, so we read, learn practice, and study the books they left...
    All, strangely, on that exact topic...
    Physics, Chemistry, Equations, Speed, Velocity... Filling this non-tropic land...

    While the blowhard captains orbit the sun, we worked... And Built...

    And Plotted...

    But after it was done, and we thought about it... We felt no guilt...

    So I pulled the button from its leather hilt...
    And pressed is gleaming button...

    Soon enough, the craft was airborne, and it began cutin' the wind...
    We were thrashed left and right, as we were bashed onto the floor...
    When we got ourselves up, we watched the projectile rise up,
    and we went inside, to feed our half-dead pups...

    But right before bed, we could hear the screams, of a thousand people dying...

    Infact, no one could have said...
    "Hey what's that?" or "Is that a Bom-"

    Because now all our leaders, should, end up... Dead...

    A Twilight's night breathes slightly and just right, in the night, while it fights to keep it dark.
    The adult and children, filling the night with sound sleeping, echoing in the barren land,
    While the Grim Reaper goes a reaping, and the sad grievers grow weeping.

    But when the loved ones are gone, and none are left to groan, I can hear the moans...
    The moans of the dead, who have risen again... To reap their reapers...