Aftermath - Don McLean

Windows in a silent room, sunlight burns the walls to black

Angles and dimensions melt while colors drip and pillows crack

Reflections of my memories like pictures pasted on a sheet

The ribbon film of separate frames lying curled up at my feet

The film is just a snake design and the photographs are fading fast

These are not memories of mine I have no future, no past

I’ve seen a thousand afternoons dissolve into the night

Like sugar crystals on a spoon they disappear from sight

Gray days from the crispest morning to the warmest afternoon in this room

And I like to draw the face I saw so long ago

My image in the mirror tells the jagged lines which way to go

The black and white description of the sole survivor of the Holocaust

All the rest were lost

Do you see this paper face?

It has no color or no mood

My eyes are ageless, as am I. I need no sleep, I need no food

I am a king, but like a child the other children laugh at me

Tongues of fire, wagging wild they dance around me merrily

I’ll kill them all and if I fail I’ll kill whoever I can find

Then they’ll beg me to be kind

My eyes have seen far more than eyes can ever tell

This planet plunged through mushroom fires of earthly hell

I know that my sweet Jesus said that he’d return

But Babylon has fallen and the cities burn