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Apocalypse
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Chosen Few
Across the plain the soldiers came,
wearily they shuffled through the dust.
guns hung loosely from their shoulders,
bloodstains turned to rust.
Underground, underground they hide.
Searching through the wreckage of a
city they used to call their home,
realising slowly that their families
and livelihoods have gone.
Underground the warlords watch them cry.
Onto the streets the warlord sent
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their guards
a heroes return, a hail of murderous fire.
'There isn't enough for all of you
there's only enough for the chosen
few.
We are the chosen few.'
On the ground
on the ground
they died.
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