Seven in all.
Little man, speak.
The eagle’s call.
Your time is running out.
The mountain’s peak.
Let forth a shout.
We are the chosen.
The bodies reek.
Baptized within Chosin.
December freezes.
The woman’s shriek.
The trigger finger eases.
The undead have risen.
The newborn’s wail.
The mother has given.
Chaos in the streets.
He looks pale.
The black fog retreats.
She is crying.
Th’ babe is frail.
The tears are drying.
The skin is burnt.
The beached whale.
The things you weren’t.
The oil spills.
The burning hay bale.
The gas kills.
The lightning ignites all of our desires.
The shades of red shall consume you.
Thou shalt run like a madman.
Thou shalt howl like a demon.
The eclipse has fallen upon us.
The sands of the east call to you.
In the meantime—
“Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition.”
Auf wiedersehen, mein Junge.
さよなら。