O muse do sing to this great council now,
of Hellion bands and their immoral deeds,
which cry out for that vengeance from above,
that Violet wields in her ethereal pow'r,
Led by The Stalker, that great beast of old,
whose King does prowl around their land below
in search of souls to steal or slay, or beat
as they to men command full loyalty.
A cult of nationality they form'd
in Hell, a kingdom fallen from the height
of glory in their vain rebellion.
And yet this august council does commend,
the reign of that deceptive monster who,
after the death of Satan at the hands,
of Violet's angel in his holy might,
now holds in their cold palms that region where,
their angels had first fallen from--Heaven.
The reign of legions damn'd even extends,
quite far beyond ancient immortal realms.
The Beasts of Babylon do even prowl,
around the ghostly New York region streets,
made by their forces but a colony.
What's more, their viral zombies do release,
to plague the world each year in agony,
as if their ghastly nature weren't enough
to scare and torment all they come to see.
For with Violet they sought equality,
the Queen of all these realms of NationStates,
but this they were not able to obtain,
so now in the rotten remains they dwell,
of Hell's most horrid circle where they lay,
in penal fire as they plot revenge.
They govern their hellhole by seven sins,
with lustful publications they release,
the power-gluttons down below recruit,
as greedily they steal the the souls of those,
who by the lustrous allure of their King,
do come to Hell for "freedom" from above,
a freedom false against the natural law.
Yet once in Hell they bask around in Sloth,
with needless games to ease the pain they feel
from death eternal and their just demise,
at the hands of She who made this world,
these NationStates in love and harmony.
Their leaders in their pride shall not repent
for even when primordial love does call,
the fallen angels even now embrace,
the ignominious stamp upon their brows.
Instead they send their Army to lash out,
at bystanders to their unending fight,
a war in vain against the highest power.
Those beasts, they cannot win, therefore they now,
instead do find their solace in their wrath.
The Stalker and their inner circle then,
amongst themselves create inequities,
as if in Hell not all are damn'd the same.
The vast throng wait in Underworld without
the hope of entry unless they do pledge,
in contravention of all that is good,
their souls unto the altar of the beast.
O Muse, this Council now hath heard enough.
The sins of Hell stack up to heaven high,
and do call out for justice from above.
And now in Violet's name this Council doth,
by the pious power of its name,
Condemn, amen, condemn the region Hell.
Co-authored by John Milton
