We were promised many great things,
but we were never told what the future brings.
How shall we ever reclaim the light
when the whole world is shrouded in hellish night?
I am seeking shelter, but there is no escape
from this deracinated world without shape.
I am a nomad, bereft of territory,
but wherever I look, I can find no glory.

Slowly, slowly, the future is cancelled,
never to come, never to pass.
The world we know has been dismantled,
and all that remains is but vaporous gas.

The land is haunted by spectres of the past,
for we know that nothing can ever last.
All is flux—all is but a process:
everything is fated to someday evanesce.
Our memories give us but little solace
when a life of awe has become aweless.
The world was once all that is the case,
but is now overtaken with empty space.

Slower and slower, the world keeps turning
toward void—toward nothingness.
The embers of life will finish burning—
but we still yearn to combiness.
Beyond that, it's all a mess.

We are trapped in an endless loop of time
to lose the 'I' for the 'me'.
The Last Man is dragged through the slime,
slowly losing his Will to Be—
Shantih shantih shantih

Slowly, slowly, the future is cancelled,
never to come, never to pass.
The world we know has been dismantled,
and all that remains is but vaporous gas.

Slowly, slowly, the future is cancelled,
never to come, never to pass.
The world we know has been dismantled,
and all that remains is but vaporous gas.