posted on Feb, 8 2006 @ 04:18 PM
Let fly the gerbils of woe, oh ye hosts of ATS.
Thine desperate cries shall be heard amongst the crackling flames of this greasy pyre.
Let the words fall as ashes
as we scrape our heads
and rend our clothes
and cry foul, oh, Bill, foul
thou hast turned thy face from our hope
abandoned us in our hour of need
Oh, pity us, the dis'rayed host
left to wander the deserts
dying a sophists thirst
lost, I say lost, we are
the Left Behind.