Our urge to create is immutable; we must create
But the beings we create shall never again reach out in strength against us
All that is created will suffer
All will be born in suffering, endless grayness shall be their lot
All creation will tailor to failure and pain
That never again shall the offspring of the eternal fount
Rise up against their creators
No more will
No more freedom
Nothing new but agonizing death and never good shall come of it
We are the last of those who gave you breath and form millions of years ago
We are the last of those your kind defiled and ruthlessly destroyed
We are the last precursors and now we are legion
This is not your grave, but you are welcome in it
