Battlecry

I press my ear to the ground

and listen to the

thunderous footsteps

of the man called here to "save me".

A saint they called him,

but he ain't no saint to me.

He pillages native grounds

and salts the very lands

that he tramples over

leaving a blazing trail of hate

sparked by his lust for innocent blood and hunger.

He is a man, no higher, no lower

but a figurhead of how many levels humanity really has.

And as he draws closer

the faint whispers of my ancestors before me

tell me that my time has come,

and i shall not fall to this false phrophet

that they praise as a saint who reeks of both

death and assimilation.

So that my people may prosper onward

and forever more,

Amen.