Doomsday, May 21, 2011
The time has come to say our last goodbyes
As quakes and floods and waves destroy the ball.
And God takes aim at bad and wicked lives
And lifts the true converts from final fall.
No one can tell what may be left behind.
What forms of life may roam the new expanse?
Your guess or hunch is just as good as mine
When gone are boys and girls and sweet romance.
I hope I fly to live on some fresh turf
Instead of die as mulch for some old sphere.
But since I can't control the winds or surf,
I plan to raise a glass and stay right here.
I can't complain about my time on Earth.
I chose the script and played the part each day.
If you can judge my heart or draw my worth,
Feel free to write the book and draw the pay.
So Lord just let the end bring down the house
With shock and awe on us who fill the stage.
Give us an act that's gentle as a mouse
But builds as lion's roam and roar and rage.
And, if you find you must delay the show,
Make sure we all can get a last rain check.
The Apocalypse can generate big dough
When those who stir it up revive the wreck.
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