A good time is coming, I wish it were here
The very best time in the whole of the year.
I’m counting each day on my tendrils and stumps,
The weeks that must pass before Mars’ approaching comes.
Then, when the first green mists begin to come down,
And the heat ray burns sharp and the sky is torn down,
I’ll not mind the screams, though my ear it numbs,
For it brings the time nearer when our invasion comes.
Drain them we shall, blood will stain their filthy soil
While in our breeding facilities their children toil.
Fractarian trees our red weed will generate,
Which with their skulls we shall decorate.
These primitive cattle will cry their last hurrah,
When they hear us scream only:
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