Sentinels - Misery Index

Quick ride to work for another nine to five

Just another day for pilots stuck in paradise

Count the minutes you have left alive

Watchkeeper, reaper, descend a silent predator

A hiss on the horizon, a messenger of war

From wings of Gabriel, to mangled gore displayed

Lowest of the low

You never will know your victims' names

Stealth intervention, «clean» death dispatched

Like the blade of Musahi (or concrete socks?)

Living, breathing forms, just ants on a screen

So easily dismissed, and easily unseen

Steel wraiths approaching, hearts burn with fear

Sweat pours in rivulets as mutant modernity draws near

«Watch their flesh explode -- it’s as if they were real

Mission accomplished… let’s drink… first round’s on me!»

Sentinel assassins, eradicate the guilt

No need to question… until it’s you