The conquerors looked around
At all their ashen mess
They stood there all quite silently
Not one to call them blessed
And from the ashes came the wail:
"We conquered our brothers, our sisters, our selves
We conquered our conscience and in our hearts delved
A dark little ship without oar or sail
For Acheron, Phlegethon, Cocytus and Styx
And most of all Lethe!
To memories nix."