This is the Dénouement: the final scene, we capitulate
Paralysed, circumcised by self annihilation. Our sky is starless.
At this moment it is merely desolate,
We are but cautionary tales, standing before a precipice
There are no fundamentals to rely upon anymore
For us anything will do. Pale faces brown. A Queen is crowned.
The patron saint of the damned is advancing, breaching borders
Her empire has tripled in size, its interior honeyed with holiness
Surplus sailors, veterans wasting away to bone
Sucked into the swamp. There will be no revival
They leave, devoid of prospect. We hear their long lament
And we who choose to stay behind
With the calamitous cacophony of the tide
The ocean roars in a foreign language
Dissolving into salt water, we finally yield