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| There's a fire at the horizon Infernal and divine Majestic as a sunset Burning in an orange line The world will burn hard In a withering fire And will come to an end in a funeral pyre The fiery father will come out of the sky He shall strike upon us who were born to fry Out of despair into a mass genocide Souls swept away by his nuclear tide A dark wind blows Over this land of death Pounding everything Into a black smoking mess The fury of flames Inside our wounds All that we pray for Is death to come soon The fiery father will come out of the sky He shall strike upon us who were born to fry Out of despair into a mass suicide Souls swept away by his nuclear tide Our gods are dethroned By a mushroom cloud Dead but dreaming Alone in a crowd Reduced to ashes Naked and cold In the not too distant future |
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