It seems that this is where we end our flight
In this jolly old game of Faster than Light.
I can't seem to get our shields to repair
And I'd wager a bet
Of all my Scrap yet
That this hasn't entirely helped our affair.
The hull was breached by a boarding drone,
and our mantis was killed, he let out a long moan,
The Zoltan in weapons was killed with haste,
by the pirate's blasters he was laid to waste,
we're on our knees,
Wouldn't you mind,
sparing us please,
as I think I've gone blind.
Oh I remember,
that time in first sector,
when the automated rebel ship,
with no shields of which to speak,
demanded we surrender,
before we one-shotted it while it was weak.
I'm telling you this now,
as I write my goodbyes,
in the hope that you,
might sympathise,
with James in engines,
like a firework he lit,
when your fire beam hit,
and he shouted "Oh Shit!"
as the fire hurt him quite a bit.
Or perhaps you don't have a heart,
who knows, maybe you're just an old fart.
And so it appears that our ship's in the shitter,
I just wish my engines warmed up quicker,
because we didn't bother,
improving our piloting,
as, in a flare, our ship got hotter,
and we spent all our scrap mending our hull,
as the benefit of charging our engines,
was useless while our store of missiles was full.
at that time engines were rather droll,
we cared only about,
shields, weapons, and drone control!
And so, torn apart is our ship,
and a piece of shrapnel is inside my hip,
I think back to the time that we made our last slip,
of turning off shields to give power to cloaking,
leaving our weapons broken and smoking,
and our crew members coughing and croaking,
while you cloaked in the commotion,
and appeared with your lasers killing at first notion.
I can't believe we made such a crucial mistake,
letting you cloak, only for you to cause us such an ache
leaving us in the medbay, quivering with fright,
as you destroyed us, Faster Than Light.