Pro patria mori.
Again we listen to the lies
Of men we believed to be our better,
Who could not protect us when the towers fell,
Though some have tried, fought valiantly for a noble truth.
And there died thousands, the Chiliádes,
For barren plains of poppy
For high and barren mountains
Barren fields, and no oil,
For a people who care nothing for freedom.
And the dying continues, too few to walk the streets
Not making them safe
Not making a difference
For a people who care nothing for freedom.
And we are now indebted to wars to come,
And they will come—
A people encouraged by the destruction of their enemies
And what they could not do themselves, we have done,
Vanquished their enemies, uniting a people.
And new nations, united, unvanquished, will fight for their god.
For their God.
And there will die a myriad.
And of our thousands, the dead forgotten,
Betrayed by cowards, paralysis and comfort.
The greatest nation falls—the experiment fails,
Destroyed as a house divided, who would not vanquish its enemies.
Who would not be men.
Who would sell the weapons of our own destruction, for greed
For new slaves in lesser worlds,
To pick our lettuce. To answer the phone.
The experiment fails, even as brave men would act,
Believing the new lies—Divided by the new lies.
Pro patria mori
Cry out! They are too few They must not be forgotten.
By weak-men, wanting Nyste-sooth ne giserne-hente.
Let the thousands survive As the experiment fails.
Retire to the coldest north Where men once lived, and learned of valour.
A new millennium and we must survive The north men will survive.
Men flew the skies and walked the moon Men fed the world and lived free-lives.
Remember them well, my reader Child-kin of Chiliádes.
Keep them safe as the experiment fails Keep them safe in the coldest north.
When I, a poet, have turned to dust Remember them and keep them well.
Know, hathel-kinde of the thousands Long ago, there once were men.
Cry out! They are too few They must not be forgotten.