Mine is the future, mine are the stars.
Soon I'll be ready to strike.
Man's reign will end and he will be scarce,
rich man and poor man alike.
I am the legion, I am the hive
a wasp, a cockroach, a grig;
a living machine, only partly alive,
small alone, but together we're big.
I am the empire, I am the Hive.
When I choose to attack no-one survives.
I can dispose of trillions of lives
till the day arrives when the Empire thrives.
Using the language of pheromones
palpi atremble we cheer.
After we've eaten the flesh from you bones
the way to our future is clear.
End product of evolution is me,
Emperor Roach is my name.
Flesh as you know it was not meant to be
and so it must vanish in flame.
The Swarm, the Hive, the Empire.
No emotions, no glands, no desires.
Controlled and programmed wildfire.
The Swarm, the Hive, the Empire.
We are the toughest, unsmashable race,
the fittest survivors alive.
True sons of Earth won't be a disgrace
to Empress Supreme and the Hive.
By moving my wings I can summon a storm.
You can take it for what it is worth.
For we are the Empire, we are the Swarm,
the chitinous lords of the Earth
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