Impatient times fuel conquest to the distant people. This one’s that kind. We determine what is right. We march, bomb, crush and kill anything we will. Until its all over. Everything is compensation. We think we are not mortal. Some stare alone into the distant night. Your prayers will not be answered. Everyone will be waiting for their own distruction. It’s vacant. Vacant in your room. Vacant in my mind. Vacant in the world. Nowhere to go. Left inside. Abrasive. You will not see your choice. There’s no choice. You will do as we say and you will obey. You will help us dig the holes where we all lay to rest.