Those who know not that they be dead,
Shout only one thing on the path they tread,
“There is No Truth, There is only No Truth”
“Everything we have seen, there is No Truth”
What can the living say to those in between?
How can the dead speak of what they’ve seen?
So they stroll in hoards Terrible but Great,
Searching for that which they will negate,
The undying were cute children once before,
Until Nobody stopped them asking for more,
And so they war to keep Death’s dominion,
To rest not in peace but to voice their opinion.