Brothers, rejoice at our luck; we are saved from the plight of the pilgrim. Our journey comes to an end, now our ships can descend; Our engines fueled by our faith held with Him. Spurred by the heat of their star, colonizing the far, frigid reaches of their galaxy. Progress! Is this a suitable world? Set the beacon and signal, Our mission may yet end in success!
On the edge of existence, we found his domain. On the edge of insanity our minds must remain. Maddened into servitude, our beings undone; On the edge of existence ride Heralds of the Formless One!
We were like you, we sought the skies! Craving meaning to existence, we found God's domain; The Eldritch horror, of formless frame. We gazed into the abyss, the abyss, it gazed back.
Want for nothing. Pray for nothing. Endless nihility, may this rapture bring! Oh, the futility of existing. Infinite eyes yet he sees nothingness; from the black hole he reigns.
If only they knew! They could rejoice at their luck, they are saved from the plight of existing. Their journey comes to an end, shortly they can ascend. Cosmic fodder, you are blessed to assist him! Technological greatness; the torch of the land, slumbering leviathan in the form of a moth, But alas, the beacon, this world sits remiss; these formless tendrils coalesce in mass.
On the edge of existence, we found his domain. On the edge of insanity our minds must remain. Maddened into servitude, our beings undone; On the edge of existence ride Heralds of the Formless One!
Accept your gift for progressing the Kardashev scale.
Spacial devourment. Heed this pull to the end as gravity betrays. Crushing dirge of hopelessness. Cosmophagic engorgement; your physics are dismayed. Drinking in the threads of time; convergent time loops have you frozen as your atoms rot away. Nebulous deity; Your hunger beckons. Even Space must Obey.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
