Marcus, we’ve something to tell you. A story of our tribe,
A tragic, but insparin’ tail, of wemics in their prime.
You know we cleaned the colony? Well now that’s… not quite true.
But feel no sorrow, do not grieve. You don’t have much time to.

There’s all this crap on our fields,
there’s crud that’s spread near and far,
All our farms are fucked up now,
The blight’s all over amun-sa.
There’s no more food on our tables,

there’s Sereph’s tear in my eye,
So we can get over this hurdle
get all fucked up ‘till we die.

When I think of that bastard Nefer,
A sword comes to my hand.

Would take a wemic with no brains
to come back to our lands.

Our battered land is tribute to
his fucking sacrifice.
His body was impaled on spikes
But that did not surfice.

There’s all this crap on our fields,
there’s crud that’s spread near and far,
All our farms are fucked up now,
The blight’s all over amun-sa.
There’s no more food on our tables,

Carve your name on your own gravestone,
Place it near your head.
If we don’t clear up all this crap,
we all will soon be… day-e-aead.

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Revised by Aquarion @ Fri, 09 Apr 2010 22:47:45 +0000

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  1. Fri, 09 Apr 2010 22:47:45 +0000 – Aquarion : Start of a brand new world [ Current ]
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