Lyrics

The rockets didn’t make it as far into the southern sector as he had hoped, but nonetheless, the message was unmistakable He almost wishes he was there in person to see the broken and bloodied faces of the insurgents begging for mercy. But for now the view from the massive screen in his control room will have to do The drone approaches a tightly clustered array of green battle helmets. They are advanced thwarted by some unseen obstacle in front of them Figures dart in and out of the shadows ahead, taking cover wherever they can. Seeking safety for their fragile bodies of flesh and bone. A pitiful match for his army of machines But as the drone passes over the stalled troops, the image on the screen begins to cut out. Warnings indicate that the motors are behaving erratically This is Tom's doing. Albert is sure of it He pulls the drone back beyond the range of Tom's machinations The scene is set for the battle to end this pathetic uprising and restore order to this city. His city. He pours himself a drink and sits back in his chair to enjoy the show The first shot shatters the silence It narrowly misses its mark, causing others to scatter from their hiding spots, hurling stones and rubble at the unflinching metal firing squad as they run The Snipers target every movement with terrifying accuracy. Bodies slump into the street from behind dumpsters and abandoned cars. Even as the air becomes choked with smoke and dust, the shots continue, tracking the screams in the cloud Their attention forward, the Snipers never see the phalanx of men and women, armed only with cast off doors and car hoods, racing at them from behind They hit the line of robots like a snowplow, shoulders to the steel, heaving themselves and the machines across the invisible line Wily shouts and hurls his drink, narrowly missing the screen. The glass shatters against the enormous window behind it, leaving a small chip in the pane before cascading fragments of the broken tumbler to the ground Back on the screen, he watches as a small force of insurgents emerge from the smoke and descend upon the incapacitated robots. As the drone pushes in closer, Albert can see the red lights within the green blast helmets flicker and fade. A sickening dread grows in the pit of his stomach as he watches his army being torn apart. A figure points and barks a command. Another lifts a fumbled weapon from the street and takes aim at the flying drone. Then the world on the screen is spinning. As the image comes to a jarring stop, the failing feed shows Albert one of his once-deadly machines—helmet missing, parts looted, mouth torn off. The robot is slumped against the wall of a bombed-out building, the words "Hope is coming back" scrawled on the blackened concrete behind it Then nothing Above the trainyard, Thomas Light sets his tools on the workbench and steps to his open window. Fear catches in his throat as he hears, for the first time in years, the sounds of hope. He knows too well the world into which that hope is born. The world in which it will surely die He alone knows the secrets that lie beneath Wily's compound. He alone knows that time is running out