After five years, we reach the final volume. We go not gentle into that good night, but go driving a converted tank, covered in glitter and spangles, with a soundsystem audible from Mars blaring nothing but bangers. Gods, pop stars, an ending. We'll miss you.

After five years, we reach the final volume. We go not gentle into that good night, but go driving a converted tank, covered in glitter and spangles, with a soundsystem audible from Mars blaring nothing but bangers. Gods, pop stars, an ending. We'll miss you.