In-Con Sequential Art


The curtains are dropping, the atmosphere's popping 
and time ticks and slows when the clocks all stop
Watch the sun dimming, the villains are winning 
the world ceases spinning; it's Rag-na-rock
Three is the number of doom that we're under
 it's all torn asunder, last breaths are drawn
The sirens are screaming at twilight's last gleaming 
the trio has teamed for this Death*Star song
Words are entrapping as devils keep rapping
 reality's snapping, the seas run red
Corpses are shambling, devil souls ambling 
citizens scramble to flee undead
Fatal from fate, not much longer to wait 
hades opens its gate for that final glimpse
Death*Star the killer, all hands on the tiller 
straight on to the thrilling apo-ca-lypse

We interrupt this broadcast to bring to you
The panic of long last, the World’s conclude
Hurled reputes in podcast should not be viewed
As it is clear this is our finish, our time is due
Crimes of youth, our minds grow loose
Online till our last minutes streaming all the truth
Over fear of abuse, all other sources withdrew
Our reporter at the scene, with an up-close view

Tune your stations to the days of devastation, breaking news
All your play and avocations, revocation, line your pews
Supplication to your gods, find your faiths, and your cues
‘Cause we meet the end of nations, Rapture’s face, shining through
Consequently in the madness, we’re left hapless, and confused
Evident with gloom and sadness, as our bodies fill the tombs
Atlas buckles in this tragic, catastrophic ill occlude
It was Death*Star, epitathic in their words that brought our doom

Originally just discontent, in my requirement to make a name
From game to fame, fame to flame, then to pain, it’s all the same
And we’re to blame, or so they say, but this accusation it rings hallow
We simply spoke the words, did the deeds, and let them follow
Not a moment of guilt, no regrets, just a fate we can’t control
When our monuments were built, the cast was set without parole
And I would bet my doubtful soul that the life toll had been neglected
Would you curse the tax inspector for the measure he’s collected?

Raise up my scythe, Death's come to tithe 
and nothing and no one is going to survive
We're the last ones alive; those three have contrived 
to open oblivion as we arrive
Thanks due from me are bestowed on those three 
as they're burning the rivers and parting the sea
Watch everyone flee, but this I decree: 
they'll be no escape, no more reason to be
I smoke my cigar; I'm Death, but you're stars 
and you're singing the doom as it looms not so far
The world's gone bizarre, shake the ants in their jar; 
take a drink with my friends as we close down the bar
Four horsemen arise and we're closing all eyes; 
it's the end of your race with this place as the prize
You're cut down to size, let me mark your demise, 
and the last verse is sung with no hope of reprise
The trio united at last, the future is past 
Bomb's hummin', we're done at the last
Our destiny's dead into dust, in each other we trust 
Flared too bright, now we're gonna combust

The tale won’t rust, yeah our legacy lingers, whether anyone’s there to remember
As some few will remain, with bitter disdain, warmed by that and societies embers
Our triad will doubtless endure, through motives impure, 
Call Death*Star's demise premature
Through these tribulations we've faced, lives all but erased, 
Condemned now to wander the wastes
Was carnage our taste?  Not really, but it now is our only remembrance
But our lives are not done, and surprising to some, our next greatness may lay in our penance

So in the end it seems we're left with all that didn't burn
The tides swept cities out to sea, yet still the world demands to turn
And while it's either cold or freezing in the lands where humans dwell
We try to view it as survival rather than a living Hell
It's gone barbaric in this esoteric, existential purgatory
Rivers all run rubicund, but true to Sartre's allegory
Self-obsessed and caught in ceaseless loops of death and birth
The truest Tartarus is other people left on Ended Earth