THE POSTMODERN ENNUI DEMOSCENE PLASTIC INEVITABLE

History is a wet dream, from which I can't awake

Slip inside the jetstream and pray to lord my soul to take

It's an abject kind of terror, like liquid in your bones

Varispeed obliteration falling hard in dulcet tones

The end of things approaches, with a saccharine display

Of everything you've ever loved turned into a parody

Of angelminded whipsters burning for the scene

Delicately promenading the follies of their teens

It's the end of all things

End of all things

It's the end of all things

My band plays my songs, and they play em sweet

Rock and roll will never fly

It lays and bleeds out on the street

The spirit of '79 is headed for a crash

Everyone I've ever loved just burns up in a flash

The end of things denies that which gives it form

Where all the holy rattlesnakes crumple and deform

Alan Vega came to me, as I sank into a bitter sleep

Said moped chains and addled brains

We all just want what we can keep

It's the end of all things

It's the end of all things

It's the end of all things

It's the end of all things