To make a long, long story terse, Be it blessing, be it curse. The Lord designed the universe With built in obsolescence. Each twinkling little star and sun Enjoys its own atomic run, Exploding when its time is done With cosmic incandescence. Astronomers predict someday Our own sun will blaze away; They'll be a glorious display Of sunburst helium masses. Our little planet earth below Will join the pyrotechnic show, With blazing hydrogen aglow And thermonuclear gasses. Thank God this great combustion day Is several billion years away. So as philosophers all say Why fret, why fume, why worry? A jillion moons will wane and wax Sit down, make out your income tax. Enjoy your life, be calm, relax, For God is in no hurry. But, oh, my friends, I have a hunch Mankind might beat God to the punch.
To make a long, long story terse, Be it blessing, be it curse. The Lord designed the universe With built in obsolescence. Each twinkling little star and sun Enjoys its own atomic run, Exploding when its time is done With cosmic incandescence. Astronomers predict someday Our own sun will blaze away; They'll be a glorious display Of sunburst helium masses. Our little planet earth below Will join the pyrotechnic show, With blazing hydrogen aglow And thermonuclear gasses. Thank God this great combustion day Is several billion years away. So as philosophers all say Why fret, why fume, why worry? A jillion moons will wane and wax Sit down, make out your income tax. Enjoy your life, be calm, relax, For God is in no hurry. But, oh, my friends, I have a hunch Mankind might beat God to the punch.
