The Doomsday clock counts down
God forbid we ever hear it gong
The last sound heard by a race
That lost the race to last.
The tolling of the midnight bells
Calls not to prayer in a cemetery
Where coffins lie unburied
The last loved of this century.
We can turn this round you know
If we pull together and somehow
Apply the breaks to this runaway show -
If we bravely lead, others will follow.
We will banish arms and make some peace
That future generations may enjoy
Birdsong at the break of day
We’ll press right on no matter what they say.
What they say doesn’t interest me
Put food on table or finish misery
If it’s going to start let it be with me
I’ll ride ahead on a purebred steed.
Not looking back like Lot’s poor wife
Salt of the earth but no celestial sight
We’re aiming high we’re hoping higher
To prove this doomsday clock someday a liar.
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