As the torrent of time declines to an petering end,
An Artists impression of shit hitting a fan will portray mankind
s feeble attempt of management.
And the prognosticated return of a God will dame us all to eternal gardening amongst roaming lions,
And thats if youve been good!
Youve got to love them, ( I must refer to them as Them as the freedom of speech laws do not permit me to announce the religion)
Knocking on your door at seven in the morning, telling you how Armageddon is just around the corner,
And how it aint looking good said in the style of a Plummers bill estimate preface.
Ill stick to my own faith, dont need no fascist salesmans alarm call thanks.
Whats so wrong with dieing anyway?
I for one often enjoy contemplating the utopia of my death.
Even if it is just to escape the ignoramus hooligans of my egotistic generation
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