I have heard the languages of apocalypse, and now I shall embrace the silence.

Death and Famine and War and Pollution continued biking towards Tadfield. And Grievous Bodily Harm, Cruelty To Animals, Things Not Working Properly Even After You've Given Them A Good Thumping but secretly No Alcohol Lager, and Really Cool People travelled with them.

I sat in the dark and thought: There’s no big apocalypse. Just an endless procession of little ones.

You're Hell's Angels, then? What chapter are you from?'

'REVELATIONS. CHAPTER SIX.

Songs remain. They last...A song can last long after the events and the people in it are dust and dreams and gone. That's the power of songs.

What silence rules the ghostly hours
That guard the close of human sleep!
(“The Testimony of the Suns”)