We march at quickened pace because things have taken a yearned turn and we have to carry ourselves soldier-bound and dutiful amidst burgeoning delay – juxtaposed creatures with muscle-bound features and all of you seem to see us either way, utterly stood sumptuously aside tightened armed silver-diamond rifles preciously gift-strapped and parcelled at terrified, trembling hand

These bullets are filled with the fruits of our doom – About to loom down large upon you