Reaver's Song
Friday, January 9, 2004

How does one become a Reaver? Is there a test? Is it better to pass...or fail? Found written on a piece of tanned human skin, floating in open space.


Reaver’s Song

Once I was a husband; once I had a child

Once I was a brother and a son

Now I am a Reaver and I live out in the wild

No longer am I kin to anyone

My village was a haven ‘til Alliance forces came

So I joined right up to try and keep it free

Can't rightly say just where it was. I don’t recall its name

But I remember how it ceased to be

They told me it was friendly fire, as if that made it right

An accident of war, and nothing more

Some gunner read a number wrong; they perished in the night

And the madman in my mind broke down his door

I seemed to take it very well; they said that I was brave

While I quiet found the one’s as killed my town

I walked up to their bat’try and I didn’t start to rave

‘til I’d taken up my gun and mowed ’em down

The prison ship was old and slow, and toured the outer moons

The prisoners were not the stuff of song

For half of us were killers and half of us were loons

I’m not certain in which half I did belong

The first I knew of Reavers, they blew in the cell-block door

And that foolish guard just had to run and see

Next second he was lying in his guts upon the floor

And I found a monster staring in at me

“We take no prisoners.” he said “but you may join my crew,

If you can only pass our little test.”

“You have to run our gauntlet, and if you make it through,

You can sit right down with us and eat the rest.”

The passageway was lined with men, if men they could be called

Scarred and burned and metal-pierced they were

Some of them were naked, some were barbered bald

And some were dressed in what I thought was fur

I let the madman take control. (He has it still, you know)

I grabbed the quivering prisoner by my side

And down that row of flashing weapons bending did I go

Him on my back; and he took their blows and died

That was many years ago, it seems a century

Since this nightmare/demon/leader got his start

Once a bit of stringy human flesh was fed to me

Now I get the liver and the heart

My clothes are sewn of baby’s skin, my cape of virgin’s hair

Or anyway was virgins ‘til we came

We still don’t take no prisoners, but join us if you dare

And your soul is dark enough to play our game

And if I ever do break out of the madman that is me

And realize the deepness of my sin

I pray I’ll have the power then to get my pistol free

And kill myself, before I fall again


Friday, January 9, 2004 12:12 PM


kinda scary but really good!!!

Monday, January 12, 2004 5:08 PM


Scary. But very good, it did its job!

Tuesday, January 13, 2004 1:02 AM


Gruesome. I like it.

Tuesday, January 13, 2004 8:13 AM


The gruesomeness owes a lot to Kipling, and his poem "The Grave of the Hundred Head" (find it at )

No tune for this. It's meant to be just verse, but for some reason there's no Option to post to the Poetry Category. I've got a request in to change that.

Sunday, February 1, 2004 12:42 PM


eeek, reeely good!

Thursday, February 12, 2004 2:10 AM


Vivid! I think I know that madman, too. I love that the same way and I think for the same reason that I love Dali's artwork - it touches something in me I don't care to exmine too closely.

Thursday, July 28, 2005 4:34 PM


People, I believe the correct term for this is "morbid and creepifyin'", and indeed it was.

This was so great. I guess there's a little Reaver in all of us, huh? Very nicely written, even while being very morbid and creepifyin'.

Keep Flyin' Under the Radar!
- Anna -AKA- FightOn4God -


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