Sol
Oak Pantheon
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The oceans will rise
And the forests will set aflame
And the coasts will all erode
And we won't mind that much at first
And the droughts will starve us
And the heat will burn us
And the disease will thin us out
And one by one we'll disappear
The death of man by his own hand
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The bodies will rot
And the air will choke us
And the storms will sharpen
And we won't mind that much at first
And the seasons will fade away
And the rain will never end
And the sky will turn black
And all at once we'll disappear
The death of man by his own hand