End of the World

Don't hang around, son, blacked out by fear All bits of reason are lost in a smear Out of our reach, and beyond our ideas There's a world we all seek that's beginning to tear Don't mess around, son, we will need you here The dust's about to fall and the smoke's about to clear Far from the edge meet the sky, dull and drear Never to free your soul from its toils and its snares Out with the old and in with the blue I surmise I won't have any answers for you Climb the walls, there's no lesson in this scroll I am sure I don't have any answers at all Should you accept you were holding the gun Meditation, aggravation, makes it all come undone Out with the old and in with the blue I've been told I don't have any graces, it's true