The world is just a rotting apple and we've all had our bite. And now it's too late to stop the rot, the human race, its bolt's been shot.
The human race has made a tower ten thousand meters high, off we've jumped and down we go the human race is going to die.
We're on our way into the ground of this world we did pollute. And desperately we try, with a collective sigh, to invent the parachute.
We'll be gone but the world lives on to evolve to a better place. And we leave to our world the human trace, of a plastic smile upon it's face.
