Echoes of Yesteryear

A silghtly contrived Fallouty poem....I'm bored.


There is a danger in the Wastes
It comes from arrogance and hate
It reaches out with long hard fingers
To drag us down into war

There is a horror from the past
Old technology left to fate
The energies that laid the world low
Brought back by long-lost lore

There is a cruelty in the eyes
And a sneering smile of late
In the countenances of leaders
Who have power yet want more


Echoes of yesteryear haunt us
Chase us through our sleep
Strike us with blasted deserts
Even as mutants nearer creep
Water turns to poison
The ground is cracked and dry
Nothing left to our children
Save to lay down and die


There is a power in the words
Of fanatics and bitter men
Who long for power to make
The world fit their dreams

There is a strength in the actions
Of those who seek these things again
Who try and bring back the Old World
But not all is as it seems

There are heroes in the land
Who will fight such a sin
Nameless, faceless, wanderers
Who fight no matter what Fate deems

Echoes of yesteryear fly by
Howling through the night
Chilling us to the very bone
Blasting us with their might
For every one who fights them
Who would give up life and hope
Are ten evil men who will never
Cease to grasp and grope

For the Echoes of Yesteryear