Song for the End of the World

Just because I'm absent minded doesn't mean I have to find it
 It's my pity-party darling, please don't act invited
 I sip Bacardi just to pass the time
 When it gets me started for the clash of titans just past my eyelids
 I'm not a downer in the kill the party market
 But I swallowed all my pride and yet I'm still a starving artist
 And still I'm finding parts of all my silly life departures
 Parts of darkness are so thrilling but it's filling my apartment
 So please forgive me if I overstep my boundaries
 I keep forgetting that there's no one left to count on me
 At least I'm living on my own and get a founder's fee
 I'm out to see and drifting off that melatonin sound asleep
 Wait up all alone just to dream away the time
 Weight upon my collarbones don't seem to pay no mind
 The day the world died I didn't even say goodbye
 I left a love letter in a secret place to hide that said
 I'd give concern but I'm a disconcerted immature kid
 Insecure when I am quickly searching for a bridge to burn it
 If I twist and turn until the blisters hurt it isn't worth it
 If it's served with sense of urgency to see me binge and purge it
 I've lived and learned and learned to live to misinterpret nervous twitches
 Pistons turning hurt to bliss it's picture perfect
 And since I've learned a circus trick of inadvertent perfect-pitch
 To skim a surface worse than this I'm in to get deserted, when I ask
 (Whose world is this?)
 (Whose world is this?)
 (Whose world is this?)
 (Whose world is this?)
 On the day the world ends
 A bee circles a clover
 A fisherman mends a glimmering net
 By the rainspout young sparrows are playing
 And the snake is gold-skinned as it should always be
 On the day the world ends
 Women walk through the fields under their umbrellas
 A drunkard grows sleepy at the edge of a lawn
 And a yellow-sailed boat comes nearer the island
 The voice of a violin lasts in the air
 And leads into a starry night
 I get less comfortable with each breath, stomach full of regrets
 Each step's becoming part of running as a reflex
 (Pretend) Tell me something that relives stress
 (Sleepless) I'd rather suffocate my weakness
 I'm David Cronenberg mixed with David Lynch stir
 David Berkowitz and a little David Fincher
 They say I mince words that can paint a picture
 Honest and true? Yes - Long live the new flesh
 And I'm impatient waiting to find a day that needs saving
 I say the things that could make me seem crazy
 I chase my dreams like I chase my drinks - daily
 I fall asleep to my existential woes
 And the questions with the answers that'll never get exposed
 I'm not too good with the mental episodes
 But about as sharp as it can get with pen or pencils though
 Evidence is shown in the sentimental prose
 Posing pros and cons to poking on this detrimental road
 I chose to walk, walk walk on sediment and stone
 Don't confuse my temperament as being reticent or cold
 Just let me vent
 And those who expected lightning and thunder
 Are disappointed
 And those who expected signs and archangels' trumps
 Do not believe it is happening now
 As long as the sun and the moon are above
 Only a white-haired old man, who would be a prophet
 Yet is not a prophet, for he's much too busy
 Repeats while he binds his tomatoes
 As long as the bumblebee visits a rose
 As long as rosy infants are born
 No one believes it is happening now
 There will be no other end of the world
 There will be no other end of the world