You’ve got the wrong idea,
It ain’t the world I hate,
My love of this planet is so big,
For it my own grave I would dig,
Really it’s just all the people crawling around on it!
We’re reaping what we’ve sewn,
The biggest blunder ever produced,
Deserving of being cast into the dark unknown,
Forget our hopes, forget our dreams,
Empty out those empty heads
And get ready to congregate with the dead!
Chasing what we fear the most,
Shaken to the core that we won’t infinitely go on,
But it’s gonna happen; it’s we’re made for,
No one will cry when our species is long gone!
Taking everything for granted,
Even our very selves,
All we touch turns into a nightmare,
Five digits are corrosive to all that breathes!
What are we to do…?