A Triptych for the Troupe
I. Meteor City
We scavenged through the heaping trash for tapes
Unruined by the burrowing of rats
For anime was our source of escapes
Amidst starvation and our bloody spats.
Since tractors rumbled in between our homes,
Producing tremors robbing us of dreams,
Of concentration to read crumpled tomes,
We got into the cleverest of schemes.
The foreign-language episodes, we dubbed
With our own voices for the joy of all,
And every child with records like ours scrubbed
Saw viewings we arranged at the church hall.
The Mighty Sweepin' Power Cleaners were
Our commonality till we lost her.
II. Yorknew City
Our leader shall conduct and orchestrate
A requiem we'll play in honor of
The strongest in our vanguard whose grim fate
Was sealed by chains that jailed him from above.
With gunfire, we'll recall his booming voice,
And arson shall reflect his burning zeal.
We shall not rest until we've made such noise
That shows the mafia our threat is real.
Those bastards have slain two among our troupe
And kidnapped countless others from our lands.
Revenge serves as the lifeblood of our group;
We'll execute with unforgiving hands.
Until they learn they cannot take and run,
We shan't accept — we'll kill while having fun.
III. Black Whale
When death begets another death, then God
Dismisses us as hopeless in his eyes.
We cannot forge a path unstained by blood
Nor pilot our own flight to paradise.
Instead, we board a ship to lands unknown
And scatter to locate a savage clown.
The upper tiers are taken by the throne;
Below, a war unbridled by the Crown.
No law can limit those who don't exist
So we shall hunt as loudly as we crave.
Our target is not one who will be missed,
Unlike the souls we still wish we could save.
While violence pervades our scripts and scenes,
We know the end shall justify the means.