After all the dust has settled
and all the shelters, reduced to scrap metal
there is a hero and he walks
brave and tall. He could save us. He could save us all.
Cast out into the shadows
fighting noble battles for his people.
But they didn't understand.
No they didn't understand
that the blood on his hands was justified,
and the ice in his heart when he kills, you can see it in his eyes.
While out in the desert,
the dryest of weather
he could hear the cries of the children
and the women of the town that he left behind.
So he rode, with the speed of lightning
you could smell the rubber of his tires from a mile away,
and he killed every last one under the sun
and the people were so grateful and so sad when he rode away.
But, no one ever ever saw him again,
but his spirit lives on the hearts of the men
that look over his town, like he used to
because just what heroes do.
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