Apocalypse In A-Minor

Apocalypse in A-Minor

Thump, thump,
Stomp your feet,
There’s an apocalypse in a-minor,
The kind you hear in an all night diner,
Blaring from a boom box.
My, my, my,
See how the vehicle rocks?

After the apocalypse in a-minor,
Fathers of roaches went into the diner,
My, my, my how they crawl,
Guess they had a bad fall.
The gorillas they climbed the trees,
I guess that’s how they bark their knees.

Well, as they say,
Nothing ventured, nothing gained, eh?
I turned to face the horror of this apocalypse in a-minor
My brain was fried like a hamburger in a diner,
A little boy told me,
“True love? Bah! Who needs it?
When you can get rest for one night only?”

Why, why, why,
Must there be this apocalypse in a-minor?
My, my, my,
The antichrist is misspelling every single word,
And spouting blasphemies like I have never heard,
He speaks of a world,
Where a little lass cries,
A world where your mother dies,
Killed by a stony mug marked
“I hate our motherland.”

An apocalypse in a-minor,
The world is a wasteland,
Like the interior of a run-down diner,
As we crawl from the ashes,
And try to eat our own eyelashes,
We mourn the losses,
Of all the last great mob bosses.

An apocalypse in a-minor,
The kind you hear in an all night diner,
Two beats short of a full ecstasy,
Maybe next there will be a hellish rhapsody.