Shortcut to Valhalla
I feel so out of place. This world revolving around me is a constant reminder of how much I don’t belong here. There is no place in this world for dreamers and no time to catch up to dreams. The first strike against’ me. I’ve spent so much time in tomorrow that I have no idea where I should be today. I can’t live---I just can’t survive here. Yesterday is like a waking dream---a cold shadow that’s a tad bit bigger than it should be. Something I could never really get my head around not with this mind that always looks inward.
I’m a barbarian among machines. The last remnant of ancient humanity that remembers what in life is truly important. There is no place in this world for those who seek to master the self. The second strike’s against me. No one cares for the truth anymore. The pride of my fists have been taken from me. I can’t protect the ones I love anymore and that was the only thing that mattered. That age is all gone now. Point me to the 16th century ’cuz I sure as hell don’t belong here. I feel too much.
There’s no time for the final count. The prognosis already looks a tad bit terminal. A genius that knows nothing of anything and a master of good luck. Hmmm, I’m not so sure I’m going to make it here. After all it’s always the strong that go first. Let me get my sarissa or the standard spear will do just nicely. The katana might do just the same or my broad sword too. The axe meh might as well I just polished it today and I’ve just strung my crossbow. Guns are just too foreign to me. Well here’s to the world. A few thousand years of fighting in all to amount to nothing. And here’s to an immortal future slavery. A few thousand years more of remembering.
I’m a barbarian among machines. The last remnant of ancient humanity that remembers what in life is truly important. There is no place in this world for those who seek to master the self. The second strike’s against me. No one cares for the truth anymore. The pride of my fists have been taken from me. I can’t protect the ones I love anymore and that was the only thing that mattered. That age is all gone now. Point me to the 16th century ’cuz I sure as hell don’t belong here. I feel too much.
There’s no time for the final count. The prognosis already looks a tad bit terminal. A genius that knows nothing of anything and a master of good luck. Hmmm, I’m not so sure I’m going to make it here. After all it’s always the strong that go first. Let me get my sarissa or the standard spear will do just nicely. The katana might do just the same or my broad sword too. The axe meh might as well I just polished it today and I’ve just strung my crossbow. Guns are just too foreign to me. Well here’s to the world. A few thousand years of fighting in all to amount to nothing. And here’s to an immortal future slavery. A few thousand years more of remembering.