It dreamed to skirt along the sacred walls
Of myriad clouds of thought and staked its claim.
Deep in the slumbering, it found a lonely home.
Inside, a thousand dreaming idiot lives.
It’s not enough to say
This will destroy the station.
It is enough to know
This will erase its name.
All lying frozen, stacked asleep in halls,
The hum of engines thundering below them.
The weakest light fell like gray dust upon their skins,
Each one a replica. Each faceless, dreamless.
It’s not enough to say
This will destroy the station.
It is enough to know
This will erase its name.
In the end, they would call out--the walls would echo back.
Each voice always a stranger’s, no one that they knew.
Pathetic lives wasted on blind ambition.
A mass of useless flesh became the void there.
It’s not enough to say
This will destroy the station.
It is enough to know
This will erase its name.