I guess you're done. You're doomed. You can stop licking your wounds. You're just recycled ash. You're just going back

But the strong will survive! The poets will cry, but not I. Not I

The planets move, and all is right!

Draw the giant's outline in chalk next to the bloody slingshot's rock, and we'll bury him along with your statistics

And the weak will comply, leak, and resign with still eyes. Still eyes

The planets move, and so do I!