When the plane goes down, when Mars attacks, when the island blows sky-high, and rain turns into ash
When love grows cold, and you do too, and sleep goes far away, and whiskey silence blooms.
Then I see that what I crave is just a sharp edge somewhere.
It's the German blimp, it's the cameraman, it's the aviator's view, the idiotic plan.
It's Adolph Rupp, it's the middle school, it's the jackbooted United States, stupid, smug, and cruel
That makes me feel that what I crave is just a sharp edge somewhere.
Everytime I say goodbye I'm wondering if it's going to be the last time.
Everytime I start a sentence I'm thinking about how it's going to end.
When our nuclear dreams have all come true, when riches have turned to rags and people kill for food,
We'll know God's in heaven and all's right with the world and we'll gather around and sing as the sky begins to burn.
Because all it means by Judgment Day is just a sharp edge somewhere.