The Death of Night Vale

Night Vale was not a place with any distinction to anyone in the world Except for me, who watched over it and loved it A love that would spell its end Now, in this destroyed world, I am forgotten Still they have bloodstones and still they worship But never does anyone ask What is being worshiped in those circles? Why do we have all of this meat strapped to our heads? They see glowing arrows in the sky Dotted lines in circles and they think nothing up them Air traffic, space debris, weird birds. The glow cloud remembers me but can do no more than flash-welcoming colors to say hello She is a closed loop of a person Who has no human mind,