There's a dread down in my bones
Of the deep, dark nothing
There's a place silent as stone
And it lives on suffering
And I can't take much more strain
From the ghosts we're chasing
And I can't get off this train
Onto death we're racing

...end of the line, you've run out of time

There's a time to push for change
And a time for seeking
There's a place to rearrange
And a time for reaping
There's a test that we all take
And it's always graded
For the white-skull Headman's sake
All the light has faded

...end of the line, you've run out of time

The wheels smoke, rattle, and roll
But I feel them slowing
And the ride costs all a toll
To the Boatman rowing
I'm to cross the River Styx
And I fear time ending
But I had my chance for kicks
So my soul I'm sending

End Of The Line (Next Gen Version)

A remix of Zach from Extra Fabulous Comics' "BoopBoop" song (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fpCqVXQpAwc). 

Summer Jam (feat. Zach)

Telenovela by Isabella Lovestory (Intrepid Demise Remix)

A song about the cyclical nature of revolt. 
Lyrics:

We'll parse through the static, and reclaim the spark,
Our verdict's emphatic, we'll pierce through the dark,  
We'll reforge the passion, and mold the unknown,
We'll stand like a bastion where cyclones are sown.  

Our spirits relentless, we'll slash through all doubt, 
The blind and the senseless, we'll soon put to rout,
We'll then seize the ground, and we'll hack through the veil, 
We'll let truth resound, and it won't be for sale.

We'll shatter our chains, and we'll rise to our claims,
We'll take up the reins, and we'll etch in our names,
We'll reshape this strife to enable one's fate
for achievement in life, consequences and weight. 

Rekindling the ashes, we're stoking the flames,
The whole system crashes, on old, weakened frames,
The locus has fallen, its wreck is defiled,
A focus for all, in utopian style.

[guitar solo]    

But soon all our charges have shown discontent,
The students have marches, and workers lament,
That rubble still smolders and poisons the air,
The prices are higher, there's no food to spare.

We try to remind these recalcitrant fools,
That we have the power and we have the tools,
Rebuilding takes time, and that knowledge is lost,
We mouth the same rhymes as the group we just tossed.

The marches grow larger, the workers set flames,
They're smashing the markers where we etched our names,
We're pulled from our homes and we're put to the test,
The Grim Reaper roams as an unwelcome guest.

Rekindling the ashes, they're stoking the flames,
The whole system crashes on newly-built frames, 
We'll hang from the gallows for crimes real and fake,
We'll drown in the shallows, or burn at the stake.

So learn from our failings and learn from our fates,
Though life will have railings, there's often a gate,
Distinguish dissent from the form it sustains
and know zealous resentment is no match for brains.

The Harvest

Found on the grave marker of a young Roman woman:

"Hospes, quod deico paullum est; asta ac pellege.
Heic est sepulcrum hau pulcrum pulcrai feminae,
nomen parentes nominarunt Claudia.
Suom mareitum corde deilexit souo,
liberos duo creavit, horum alterum
in terra linquit, alium sub terra locat.
Sermone lepido, tum autem incessu commodo.
Domum servavit, lanam fecit. Dixi. Abei."


Epitaph of Claudia

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End Of The Line (Next Gen Version)

Intrepid Demise

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