Pimpcron’s Chaos Nursery Rhyme
Hello there young youngling, sit here and you’ll see
that there are powers out there, they say couldn’t be.
In school they teach you, only one thing
to worship a dead man, held up by some strings.
But his face is all dusty, husky, brittle and dry
and his sockets are all empty, with shiveling eyes.
How can a corpse help you, from his golden throne?
He can’t, that’s the answer, just brittling bones.
But sit here and listen, I’ve been far and wide
there’s a face on the moon, and I’ve seen the dark side.
In the shadows and shades, creep the most beautiful things,
some have big smiles, others feathery wings.
They have all mastered, what many pursue
immortal and mighty, and beauty to view.
They are gods! Not corpses! Not sitting idly by
while their worshipers whimper, and call out to the sky.
Khorne is the god that many do seek
he is fierce and angry, but never is weak.
He calls for the blood and skulls of all peoples
if you kill in his name, you will never be feeble.
His throne is made from the skulls of the fallen,
parting head from body is his higher callin’.
Slaanesh is a god so easy on eyes,
perfection and grace and some fantastic thighs.
They will give you the pleasure you so eagerly chase,
look around and you’ll see proof all over the place.
People eat until their stomachs burst with a pop,
Others just fornicate, without ever a stop.
Tzeentch is the one, made of puzzles and twists,
his words and intentions, swirling like mists.
Knowledge is his power, among other things,
he puzzles quite hard before pulling some strings.
The information he’ll tell you may drive you mad,
but secrets and knowledge, simply can’t be that bad.
Nurgle, oh Nurgle, all joyous and happy,
ignore his puss trail, his wounds are quite sappy.
You’ll live forever and ever, if you are quite devout,
spreading joyous diseases, with your guts hanging out.
Pain will no longer be something you get,
though your skin will be slimy and your carpets, all wet.
Please don’t fear child, you’ve so much to find out,
whether covered in blood, or puss running out.
You’ll reach deep down, inside of your heart
and find which inspires you, to do your part.
In spreading your happy, infectious rot,
or pursuing obsession, whether violent or not.
The powers they offer, are beyond your dreams,
but the trick to surviving, is ignoring the screams.
Post your own lyrics! Add to the rhyme!
This article idea brought to you by Leroy Jenkins!
Hey! This article is brought to you by my top-tier Patreon supporter Mike Cowley!
Thanks Michael, smooches!
Pimpcron’s Narrative Wargaming Supplement
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