Fortunate Helldivers

There are those born with a ballot pre-stamped, A gilded podium, a patriot’s lamp. When the broadcast says, “Liberty needs you today,” Your pod is launched to the Milky Way. Chorus: Count me out, count me out, I never voted for this route. Count me out, count me out, I’m not the golden child they shout. The Ministry of Truth says the choice is free: One approved option, then you agree. The taxman comes not for coin but blood; They auction your name in the name of good. Chorus: Count me out, count me out, I never chose to march and shout. Count me out, count me out, I’m just the ash they scatter about. There are those born with a star in their eyes, They sell you the war and rebrand the skies. When you ask how many lives it will cost, The answer is “more,” and the signal is lost. Chorus: Count me out, count me out, I never signed up to be devout. Count me out, count me out, I’m not the heir they cheer about. Super Earth waves its managed flag, While E-710 fills the bag. The bugs and bots are the enemy line, But the real machine feeds on yours and mine. Chorus: Count me out, count me out, I never voted for this route. Count me out, count me out, I’m not the golden child they shout. Liberty’s broadcast hums in the rain, A free citizen with a numbered name. I didn’t enlist for your paradise; I was processed, equipped, and sacrificed. Chorus: Count me out, count me out, I never chose to march and shout. Count me out, count me out, I’m just the ash they scatter about. Outro: Not your hero, not your son, Just a body count when the war is won. Not your hero, not your son, Just a number in Managed Democracy’s sun.