Within The European Dead Zone, the system-renowned hunter marched, piles of Eliksni corpses scattered in his wake, a testament to his stalwart purpose. But something seemed… off.
Seven, six, eleven, five, and twenty miles today
Four, eleven, seventeen, thirty two the day before
Boots, boots, boots, boots, moving up and down again
There’s no discharge in the war.
Don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t, look at what’s in front of you
Boots, boots, boots, boots, moving up and down again
Men, men, men, men, men go mad from watching them
There’s no discharge in the war.
Count, count, count, count, the bullets in the bandoliers.
If, your, eyes, drop, they will get on top of you!
Boots, boots, boots, boots, moving up and down again
There’s no discharge in the war.
We, can, stick, out, hunger thirst and weariness
But, not, not, not, not the chronic sight of them
Boots, boots, boots, boots, moving up and down again
There’s no discharge in the war!
Not, so, bad, by, day because of company
But night, brings, long, strings of forty thousand million
Boots, boots, boots, boots, moving up and down again!
There’s no discharge in the war!
I, have, marched, 9, years in hell and certify
It, is, not, fire, devils, dark or anything but
Boots, boots, boots, boots, moving up and down again!!
And there’s no discharge from the war!!
TRY, TRY, TRY, TRY, TO THINK OF SOMETHING DIFFERENT!!!
OH, DEAR, TRAVELER, KEEP ME FROM GOING LUNATIC!!!
BOOTS, BOOTS, BOOTS, BOOTS, MOVING UP AND DOWN AGAIN!!!
THERE’S NO DISCHARGE IN THE WAR!!!!-
He had been reciting this for hours… almost as if to condition himself into compliance and servitude to The Traveler and The System, like a potter trying to seal shattered porcelain with gold… but how much of him really is the original porcelain from before? Between Braytech creating him, and The Traveler bringing him back, how much of him really is left, if there was anything in there to begin with?
