Perhaps we are waiting for our own doom
The future is not wrapped in paper as a gift
Our world offers dangers we cannot predict
Not monsters, not even men, we lay naked
In a galaxy of events waiting, perhaps fated
There are crises forming, to ignore is peril
To address our weak response, it is immoral
Our flesh will fade, we decay, all will die
Our planet is an island, aloft in a deadly sky
Gentle and alive, dying and violent it waits
An end guaranteed, crisis will fulfill our fate
From slum to high rise, from outhouse to palace
Our destiny has always been to one day die
But to die this way is to our own blame
We lost civility, we've embraced the madness
That the end will come means nothing, we all die
But our treatment of others should be our shame
"The truly apocalyptic view of the world is that things do not repeat themselves. It isn’t absurd, e.g., to believe that the age of science and technology is the beginning of the end for humanity; that the idea of great progress is delusion, along with the idea that the truth will ultimately be known; that there is nothing good or desirable about scientific knowledge and that mankind, in seeking it, is falling into a trap. It is by no means obvious that this is not how things are.”
