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The fiction is that we'll get
Through this mess,
That we somehow distress ourselves.
Everybody knows,
Hope turns to cynicism.
Were helpless more and more.

Apocalypse,
Timer set to 5-minute warning running out.

Sky shooting stars,
Wish before they hit the ground.

No speed limits,
We'll get there before noon,
To shape a nice new moon.
No need to fear,
No time to feel or regret,
Indeed we were mislead...

Apocalypse,
Timer set to 5-minute warning running out.

Make it right this time...

Raining dead poetry,
(It) started raining dead poetry...

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