That's it. The end.
But oh, what's this?
The story has gripped me by the neck,
And said,
"No, I'm not done yet."

But we've reached the limit,
Your foretold conclusion,
The song's final lyric.
I've already finished...
"Then rewrite it."

So after a reforged part four,
Tell me then, how many more?
"s𝑝𝑜𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑟𝑠."

Oh, but how can you expect me to tell your tale with such accuracy?
Why must you burden me with such uncertainty?
Do you really trust me,
To do justice in repeating what you speak?

"I care not for the method, nor the elegance.
All I know is—death has always been a false end."

You dare oppose your fate foretold?
You dare change your identity,
To become the unknown?

"Was that my true tale or were you unable to listen?
Am I a stranger or have you simply forgotten?
Now that I have returned to speak the truth,
I expect a more joyful greeting from you."


Alas, I cannot keep this tale imprisoned.
Some may owe their debts to the sea,
But I certainly owe mine to this story.
And it waits, oh, so patiently,
For me to continue this reunion,
With 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑊𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑊𝑎𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔.