Eight minutes left now,

for our planet’s end,

global climate change,

was easy to mend.

 

But the Sun’s collapse,

will leave us deranged,

if not dead for good,

our people estranged.

 

Three minutes over,

living in falsehood,

waiting on la fin,

childhood, now sainthood.

 

Three minutes are left,

hello, friend of mine,

my death’s not far now,

drink some beer and wine.

 

Death’s an inch nearer,

should have kept my vows,

I should not have lied,

should have kept my house.

 

Should have said goodbye,

thirty seconds left,

panic in my heart,

first and last goodbye.