Your days are numbered, according to Kemp
The scene is a bloodbath, a ten out of ten
I'm not a prophet, a savage, or saint
No, I'm into real view, a dreamer I ain't

Your mama calls me crazy
Predictions fade to grey
She never thinks about tomorrow
Tomorrow (tomorrow) soon turns to yesterday

You can call me dirty liar
While they set your house on fire
We'll go down in flames
This is not a game
You can shut the blinds and doors
You can scream until you’re hoarse
I hear, what you're sayin'
This is not a game, this is not a game

Those eerie bastards, they're goin' on tour
They're highly contagious, they're highly obscure
I'm not your saviour but just look around
The end of an era, we’re running aground