As I run to a cold, dark future
I see nothing but dire tidings
And a crucible of war
That threatens us all to death.

               Nothing.

Then, our gray knights came
But not in shining armor
They smash foes like one
Would crush bugs under doormats.

               Something.

They come with pillars of light
That blaze enemies to kingdom come
They come with cold hails of steel
That make one pray to God for mercy

               Everything.

The final banality of it all
Dawns upon my fading soul as the
Points of life turn to a bright green
And orange foes fade to naught

               The end.