When the world ended,
There was nobody,
Well, not to blame at least.
We all know
It was our fault
For trying to tame the beast
That was each other;
The ones above us,
Who enjoy their blazen yeast;
And the gods
Who roamed among us,
Who’d rather blame the feasts.
So we killed them:
Our friends, our enemies.
We tore down our economy.
We killed them:
Ourselves, each other.
Split necks, called it dichotomy.
We killed them:
Our world, our sins,
And practiced red topography.
We killed them:
Our sons, our men
And I pretend it doesn’t bother me.
It’s over, what can we do,
But bear our children
Directly into misery?
It never started, but whoever knew
A perfect world
Could fall into asymmetry
Was thought a god,
Like you humans do,
You who are yet to know of empathy
Claim to be gods
When all you can do
Is all but value your epiphanies.
When the world didn’t end,
Everyone noticed.
Well, at the most, it was done subconsciously.
As such, nobody knew,
And as humans do,
They’d continue their rule in cacophony.
They would each learn no lesson,
They’d die in succession,
And abandon design and biology.
They’d choose all that exists:
Good, evil, abyss,
And believe they were gods wholeheartedly.
When the world didn’t end, it bothered me,
As the fruit of that tree
Is a part of me.
When the world ends, it won't bother me
I won't be there
Not one a'part of me
