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