Cancel that, the myths over run
the deities shake off their auras
sigh and slink sadly away.
This then, is it, the end of days
No explosion of light, No last judgement
No singing choirs, No brimstone, No fire,
just turn off the lights, last one out
Shut the door. We came to a garden
And in our childish greed all we saw
Was wasted space and weeds, all we left
was crumbling concrete, cancer, rusting steel
toxic waste, spent oil, sludge and despair.
It’s not a religious thing, its not a matter of faith
look what we had, see what we’ve done
It’s over finnito, fin, leave ‘em to it. Shut the door.
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