Oh woeful creature, so sick and twisted
How I wish I never knew that you’d even existed
Would that I could slay the last of all your wretched kind
And then try to erase all vestiges of you from my mind
Oh Commercialasaur, the bane of lore!
Concerned with nothing other than sex and gore
You plague a myriad realms with your pustulent puke
And care not for what matters or for scathing rebuke
Your lust for gold is getting old, and leads you down a narrow track
That’s yet broad and beaten and over-eaten, and does not care to look back
You’d publish your own excrement if you think that it’d sell
While condemning the lands you shit on to a bland and boggy hell
Oh harbinger of hype, and agent of decline
Forcing picking of the fruit before it’s ripened on the vine
You detestable, indigestible, dorito mountain dew infested swine
One day I hope it shall be YOU who has to pay for all your crimes
Yet your reign of soulless terror is quickly loosening its hold
As kicks to our hearts have fuelled our hopes and start to grow us bold
So once more that we might fly upon the wings of all our dreams
That lift us into heaven, and shed the need for memes
But are you even now extinct in our fair Rivellon
I pray we never see your likes here again, to you I say begone!
And do not try to touch us, lest your hearts grow pure and true
Just let us see how great we might be, and what Larian can do
For what may come from such freedom, as to fly above your reach
The wealth of history’s triumphs might have much for us to teach,
To new horizons, heights and features, and of long-forgotten things
The beautiful wonder of imagination... to see what it will bring
