Crushed

It was time - the moon was larger than usual, these moaning humans were going to be crushed like ants, Syria, Yemen, Isis and all of the rest - none of them knew what was really best. The chances they'd had - known only bad and sad and mad - now they would be destroyed, perhaps even robots would be better than these idiots, the terracotta warriors would rise again, and vacate the place where respect had lain. We can not let this happen in any future, If necessary, we will control the power, now there's a thing - it has a fascinating ring, to think that this incredible concept may be successful. To think that goodness will prevail finally, and that we will kick any bad **** firmly.