The impending fear, The first spear, Strikes the heart of man; Their world destroyed, The end employed, Tears and blood, Stain the mud; The wise do not weep, For they know to reap, Is to cut away all that is corrupt; The krill rejoice, In their songs devoiced, For the deep shall rule, With a reign so cruel, That life is eliminated; Embrace, young fools, The wise old ghouls, The final, perfect, shape: Death.