So We Found The End Of Our

Where Are The Gods The Gods Hate Us The Gods Have Run Away The Gods Have Hidden In Holes The Gods Are Dead Of The Plague They Rot And Stink Too There Never Were Any Gods There’s Only Death

One Day God Felt He Ought To Give His Workshop A Spring Clean... It Was Amazing What Ragged Bits And Pieces Came From Under His Workbench As He Swept. Beginnings Of Creatures, Bits That Looked Useful But Had Seemed Wrong, Ideas He'd Mislaid And Forgotten... There Was Even A Tiny Lump Of Sun. He Scratched His Head. What Could Be Done With All This Rubbish?

Do As You Like With Me. I'm Your Parcel. I Have Only Our Address On Me. Open Me, Or Readdress Me.

The Sea Cries With Its Meaningless Voice, Treating Alike Its Dead And Its Living

So We Found The End Of Our Journey. So We Stood, Alive In The River Of Light, Among The Creatures Of Light, Creatures Of Light.