Uncertainty and fear are old-world;
living in the anguish and anxiety of terror are today.
In the days of the crusaders, they were brutal acts of war,
and those acts are not lost completely.
How can we fight them and kill them,
when they’re just like us,
hell, they could be us,
but they are not. They are enemy,
and as the wolf will advance so far as he is allowed,
we shall take the war upon his home, his forest, rather than on our turf.
Where our hearts are, our allegiance lies too,
and freedom is not free in this commodity world.
Like oil, milk, and everything else, the prices rise.
As populations are curbed by plagues and famine, so it is with war.
And in times of peace the unhappy grow restless,
like gerbils, they produce martyrs in mass quantity,
but it cannot stay this way, life is an elemental gift,
and can be stolen away in a flash from the heavens.
Without remorse or tear they will take advantage,
but we may plant them where they stay,
ripping and burning the hopes of world revolution.