The Deadlock Song

"Son, be a colonist". Is what Dad said to me.

"It's a cushy life, and you'll get alien real-estate for free". So I talked to the recruiter to see if this was so.

He smiled at me, the nicest smile, and said, "Kid, don’t you know? A colonist’s job is easy, a colonist’s wages high. A colonist’s pension plan would make a civil servant cry. There’s never any danger, there’s always lots of fun, and as for job security it’s better than a nun’s".

<"Kid, I’d like you to meet somebody. His official title is Commander, but I’d like you to think of him as more of a social coordinator".>

If I ever get back home again, if I ever get back home again, if I ever get back home again, that recruiter’s going to die. <‘Cause I’m here to tell you folks, the rosy picture that he painted bore no resemblance to reality.>

Some say the Cyth are evil, they say they’re misunderstood. <"If you’d just do things our way, it would serve the greater good".> They seek to reach a higher place, a more enlightened mode. Meanwhile if you get in their way, your brain just might explode.

The Re'lu seem to think they simply can not be outclassed. They're so vain that less cultured folk, <Yeah less cultured folk, like say for instance the Queen of England.> Seem barbaric by contrast. Their access to your brain includes both read and write. They turn your units into theirs, and no one’s left to fight. <Bob, Bob, what’s wrong. "I don’t know Jim, they, they just seemed like such nice fellas".>

If I ever get back home again, if I ever get back home again, if I ever get back home again, that recruiter’s going to die.

ChCh-t need new worlds expand, more than the others do. For like their cockroach cousins, there's never just one or two. They multiply like vermin, make tireless labor crews, and carry off your resources like ants at picnics do.

The Maug are weak and sickly and their horns are mostly fake. The Cyth took their home planet, more poisons for to make. But for such whining wheasers, they’re an engineering bunch. Give them a rock, and they’ll invent the Warp Drive before lunch.

If I ever get back home again, if I ever get back home again, if I ever get back home again, that recruiter’s going to die.

The Uva Mosk think that they’re Mother Nature’s strong right arm, and they are more than willing to blast those who do her harm. Their camouflaging units will pop up behind your lines, so you’d better give a hoot ‘cause you won’t like their littering fines.

The Tarth are big, the Tarth are tough, the Tarth will cause you pains. They’re not too bright, but when you can head-butt buildings, who needs brains. They make the greatest farmers, but as spies they suck, you see. They try to hide their six-foot width, behind a one-foot tree. <This is KGAL, your news and information station on Gallius IV. Here with a correction to last week’s editorial reply, noted public figure, the Uber General. > <"Tarth cooks make best stroodle. That’s all, just stroodle".>

Add to that the Skirineen, who’d sell their mother’s eyes, and you can see why I might not think this job is a prize. So if I manage to survive, I’m going back to Earth. But I think I’ll keep my laser gun, just for sentimental worth.

If I ever get back home again, if I ever get back home again, if I ever get back home again, that recruiter is gonna to die.

 

<*****> = Spoken by the singer.

<"***"> = Spoken by singer, as an impersonation.


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