2050 - In Evil Hour

Seems like we're never gonna make it

And will this present become past

Whispers from when the old world faded

How did it fall so fast?

You are now left here all abandoned,

Hiding from our desperate calls

Your gilded gates decay, all black and crumbling

Now what good are your walls?

See you when they fall

I am the wind falling silent, still blowing though

I am the quiet that you call home

Bleaching your soil and killing your crops I go

I am the quiet that you call home

Look over scorched and arid landscapes

Kings of all that you observe

Victims of your own dying hubris

Golden masters that you served

My tide comes dark and indiscriminate

Solutions can't be bought and sold

Bodies pile and poison all your water

Now what good are your walls?

Seems like we're never going to make it

Seems like we're really gonna die

All is lost!

I am Death!

When you discover you can't eat your tech

Spin the webs!

Pull the threads!

I am the unraveling of time that you spent

Build the walls!

Ignore the calls!

I am the consequence of all that you wrought

Bring them down!

I can wait!

I now have all of the time in the world