(This one's for all you apocalypse babies out there....a little something new)

Mouths open wide
There is a crack up in the sky
Where clouds once formed and dissolved

There's no one in the control room
They're running out of gas
And all those loud-mouthed preachers told us this would come to pass

Give 'em more money
They can use it in the final days
You can panic or be calm
It doesn't matter much in the final days
Oh yeah

(Susan...Jonny....Will I be seeing you at the rapture? It's gonna be fun!)

I hear Coca Cola and GM are working with the government on a way to keep their customers alive
A way to keep far away the hellfire and the horsemen
A stadium to entertain the fat, desperate ones inside
So surveys and receipts are sent
to committees with just one intent
Weed out the desirables
Throw the rest out with the hive

You've gotta give 'em credit
Sick fucks are so determined in the final days
You could be the latest prophet
You're still a piece of charred meat in the final days
Do wop Do wop Do Waaaaah

If you've ever wondered why things have headed this way
Where the criminals reach power and the innocent, they pay
It seems our slavemasters are praising Jim Morrison's name
Saying "We're gonna have our kicks before this shithouse goes up in flames!"

It's chaos, fear and mayhem for the Lord is coming soon
And you know he loves looking up at a sky with two red moons
The President suggests you buy a terrorism kit
Those same paper clips and duct tape from when 9/11 hit

May as well pick one up
Peace of mind in the final days
Vote Georgie Baby back in office
It doesn't matter in the final days
Oh yeah