• Come to my arms, my beamish boy.
    He came to us.
    He promised us.
    Peace, joy, freedom.
    Utopia.

    Come to my arms, my crying boy.
    You're frightened.
    Like fire, fear spreads.
    It sneers at us.
    But don't you worry.
    He knows what to do.
    He always does.

    Come to my arms, my laughing boy.
    You see them suffer.
    You see them write in pain.
    You see how the flames char their bodies.
    Their screams, like bloody daggers, cleave the air.

    Come to my arms, my fiendish boy.
    All innocence, all kindness, all humanity.
    All you had. Obliterated.
    Our poor utopia.
    Poor, rusted utopia.

    Come to my arms, invading dystopia.
    And my utopia? You?
    Breathe deep, my sweet utopia.
    Breathe deep and die.