To The Fourth Generation
To the fourth generation cure, it has come-
Against an evil spawn of Rats which are undone-
All humanities futures stands at stake-
Making it paramount the right decision this time to make make-
No expulsions, no changing host, no passing the buck-
No mercy, no quarter, they have used up all their luck-
Their souls must be scattered to the four winds like at the Tower of Babel-
Beggars of birth, orphaned souls cast out to wander the earth like rabble-
No wealth, no special privilege, no some one else doing their work-
Just a loser wandering through life like an gentuza jerk-
So say my ancestors who showed them mercy in times past-
They tell me in unison, it is my duty to make this time be the last!
The ole Dog!