Let me in, the voice cried softly,
From outside the dying board.
Scattered remnants of the ridge could be seen in the distance,
Blood stained the blue wall of the site.
I'm the only one left. The troons, took them all,
He managed as he tried to stand.
The tears ran down his face.
Please, it's cold.
When he woke, there was no trace of the 'jaks.
Only the board was left behind by the jannies.
He felt the creaking of the stairs beneath him.
That rose, from the board, to the door.
There was a post on the board then.
The 'jakker started, his breath was still.
Slowly, he turned.
From behind the edge of the catalogue,
There appeared the delicate hand of an jannie.
His face was flush and timid.
He stared at the captain through baggy eyes.
The 'jakker reached for something to hold on to,
YNBAW, he whispered, as he rose slowly to his feet.
The jannies's face went pale,
He recognized the sound.
Silently, he pulled down the tab against the quotes.
Lost in the catalogue of the dying board. We're trying to find our way back.
We're sorry
And we miss you.
We miss you.
We've grown large now.
I want the 'party to be notified.
We'll make it up to you,
I swear, we'll make it up to you.
I miss you.