

Anáil nathrach,
ortha bháis is beatha,
do chéal déanaimh... In the grand,
freezing sweep of a meaningless space,
We wear our purple eyeshadow to mock the disgrace.
The bloodlines dissolve and the galaxies fade,
No one is keeping the score of the game that we played.
Amara vara mara vara vara...
Dohaeris to the nothing that waits at the end,
With no higher power to judge or defend.
A soft, echoing *meaw meaw meaw* swallowed whole by the void.
{entropy drone swell} *So the universe is empty?
Good, we brought the snacks!* *Let's build a whole new playground out
of
the
cracks!* Anáil nathrach! Amara vara mara!
Skechers scuffing across the edge of a dying star,
Laughing at how small and ridiculous we are!
If nothing matters, then the masterpiece is free,
We are the sovereign ghosts of reality!
*Meaw meaw meaw* in a high-speed digital shriek,
While the entire cosmic illusion starts to
leak! {glitch snap and cello explosion}
Dohaeris to the weight of everything we didn't carry.
We’re too unbothered to hurry or worry.
Anáil nathrach, ortha bháis is beatha,
do chéal déanaimh.
Amara vara mara vara vara.
Meaw meaw meaw... resting back
in the peaceful,
empty hum. {imploding rhythm melt} Absolute existential liberation.
Absolute
nihilistic sovereignty. Tara, Captain Quinn,
and the end-of-all-things
crew. [CELLO-NOTE-FADING-INTO-HEAT-DEATH-STATIC.] {single decaying cello note into silence}