The magenta hued field rests
As it always has spread across
A snout that no longer snarls
Shielding eyes that no longer
Find rage so easily as before
The hammer in hand singing
Through the air crashing
Through splintering wood and
Ancient plaster a hand reaches
Supplication and hope calling
What is the point of villainy
If all that power and indignation
At the status quo is not brought
To bear in the most visceral manner
As succour and relief to the hopeless
The heroes may consider you
As an acceptable loss to their metric
Society may not care so long as
The damage is no longer visible
We will not forget you in the ashes
We will burn the old world to save
Your precious life.
As it always has spread across
A snout that no longer snarls
Shielding eyes that no longer
Find rage so easily as before
The hammer in hand singing
Through the air crashing
Through splintering wood and
Ancient plaster a hand reaches
Supplication and hope calling
What is the point of villainy
If all that power and indignation
At the status quo is not brought
To bear in the most visceral manner
As succour and relief to the hopeless
The heroes may consider you
As an acceptable loss to their metric
Society may not care so long as
The damage is no longer visible
We will not forget you in the ashes
We will burn the old world to save
Your precious life.
