We're Goin Bowling. If We Don't Come

By Hook Or By Crook This Peril Too Shall Be Something That We Remember

Boy, Everyone Is Stupid Except Me.

You, Why Are You So Afraid Of War And Slaughter? Even If All The Rest Of Us Drop And Die Around You, Grappling For The Ships, You’d Run No Risk Of Death: You Lack The Heart To Last It Out In Combat—coward!

…but There They Lay, Sprawled Across The Field, Craved Far More By The Vultures Than By Wives.

That Is The Gods' Work, Spinning Threads Of Death Through The Lives Of Mortal Men, An All To Make A Song For Those To Come.