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The boy Heir is dead, the boy Heir is dead
Stabbed by Jack Noir on his ordained death bed
The boy Heir is dead, the boy Heir is lost
The troll that he heeded withheld him the cost
The boy Heir, the boy Heir, the Heir’s dead once more
Stabbed in his chest, just like he was before
His nanna is dead, and her gambit has run
Destroyed by a meteor and infant named John
His father is dead, and a trophy was made
By John’s father’s killer, who wields a long blade
The Seer girl is dead, the grim one, the dark
The one who acquired a grey eldritch mark
The Seer girl is dead, her dreamself is done
Her life, it was swallowed in making a sun
Her mother is dead, her wine on the floor
Her wine that was spilled by the fiend Jack Noir
Her feline is dead, though a secret he told
Now Jasper’s coffin has become dry and cold
The Time Knight is dead, he was shot by his friend
She screams it was accident, but it still meant his end
His brother is dead, by his own sword impaled
Though he fought long and hard, against Jack he failed
The Time Knight is dead, and is dead, and is dead
A thousand clones of him bleed paradox red
The Knight’s dream is dead, just like that of the Seer
The sun-star of green he did make, conq’ring fear
The Witch, she is dead, her dream life she gave
As Prospit’s moon shattered, a friend-Heir to save
Her grandpa is dead, an unlucky shot
But he was a prowler, is what Tavros thought
The Witch, she is dead, Typheus to blame
With no John, no escape from her meteor came
Her dog, Bec, is dead, its sprite was combined
He dwells now only submerged in her mind
The Witch, she is dead, she was blown to her doom
Who knew that shaving cream, of all things, went “boom”
Karkat is dead, the mutant-hued red
Now littered the landscape, as dying he bled
The Signless is dead, he suffering died
That someday his ideals might be realized
Karkat is dead, was taken by Jack
All because Vriska went free to attack
Terezi is dead, in that same line as he,
T’would end in her death, if it were to be
Redglare is dead, hung from the noose
Intended for Mindfang, who tricked her way loose
Aradia’s dead, her rust blood was shed
Revenge from the spider for the ghosts of the dead
The Handmaid is dead, at last done her work
Freed from her master by Empress’s fork
Sollux is dead, in suff’ring and pain
The call of G’bolyb tore into his brain
The Helmsman is dead, of the Empress cut loose
The Glub that took trollkind freed him from his use
Nepeta is dead, by a club she was killed,
If she had stayed put, green would not have been spilled
The Disciple is dead, in solitude she grieves
Her tears and his writings are all that she leaves
Tavros is dead, with his own lance run through
By Vriska, his matesprit, though sometimes black too
The Summoner’s dead, and how we don’t know
But his uprising failed, too many laid low
The drinker is dead, and with her died too
The orb that would give them their race made anew
The mother is dead, the pirate’s poor slave
The Orphaner sent her to a watery grave
Vriska is dead, a stab in the back
The Seer could not let her go off to face Jack
Mindfang is dead, her match she did meet
Fated in him that her fate was complete
Void’s Heir is dead, shot in the knee
Choked by blood superiority
Darkleer is dead, the e%iled one
Yet did he regret the act he had done?
Eridan’s dead, and it sure seems to me
He’s not half the troll that he used to be
Dualscar’s dead, no more orders he calls
His purple hues decorate the Grand Highblood’s walls
The Highblood is dead, good riddance to him
Too many trolls died on the spur of his whim
Feferi is dead, an heiress no more
White science’s power made fuschia blood pour
The lusii are dead, each and every one
Ordained to their fate before Sgrub begun
The scratch trolls are dead, from a tumor they died
In the bubbles they dwell, for they failed when they tried
Life’s Maiden is dead, Red Miles her doom
On Derse she did fall, and Derse was her tomb
The Maiden is dead, her Prospit self killed
Once again Jack Noir was behind the blood spilled
The Maiden is dead, on a Crypt she awoke
Just before English through Jack Prospit broke
Her poppop is dead, comedically died
Grew up under Crocker but still remained kind
The Page boy is dead, and dead hope is too
Allergic to peanuts, his dream time came due
The Page boy is dead, woke on Prospit once more
Before its destruction, down to the core
His grandma is dead, she was forked in the back
Her defiance was strong, yet Betty had the last laugh
The Rogue girl is dead, for one cannot escape
The Miles, who found her, her stomach agape
The Void Rogue is dead, awoken on Derse
Its moon was consumed in a fiery burst
Her mother is dead, though she fought Crocker’s plans
The troll was too much, and she died by her hands
The Prince, he is dead, he is purposely dead
In order to wake him, he cut off his head
The Prince, he is dead, he is dead once again
On Derse as it crumbled, he lost life to ascend
His brother is dead, and he died long ago
But not before killing both chief juggalos
The consorts are dead, the nobles alone
The lands are now empty, the imps are of bone
The White Queen is dead, though she fled from her moon
Jack Noir still came and proved exiles’ doom
The White King is dead, after waiting so long
The lotus, it bloomed, with a flower of wrong
AR is dead, and again it was Jack
Who took off his head with a single attack
The author is dead, but this is okay
Not many of us liked him anyway
Doc Scratch is dead, and while this is true
He was, semifortunately, quite disliked too
The Space Muse is dead, the cherub is dead
Her brother controls now her space in their head
The Felt gang are dead, from one to fifteen
The Crew has destroyed their mansion of green
So many have died as this game marches on
Yet it does not care if its players are gone
But let us recall those, pay honor to them
Let us mourn proper, a sad requiem