Condolences from the Undead

We march to burn the world
And everything within it. 
From the earth we rise, 
Heading the call, 
No skin to our bones,
Fueled solely by magic, 
We march to burn the world. 

We have no individual thought,
Just a lingering ache 
Of ones long gone,
Of dreams diminished,
Of all we’ve forgotten,
Of sins that shift and grate.
Yet, we march to burn the world.

Don’t blame us as we slaughter
Your family and your friends.
We hack and slash
And stumble and stab,
But only because of
The orders that he sends. 
So, we march to burn the world.

If you could, we’d ask you to realize
That we didn’t ask for this,
For rage or hate,
Or to be undying. 
For no will or thought,
Or for bodies turned painless.
But, we march to burn the world.

Know we truly give our condolences
For the people you’ve lost. 
Know deep down 
In our decaying hearts
We sympathize while 
Eating out their brain sauce.
Still, we’ll march to burn the world.

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