| And so the good man said:
|
| «Turns out God is dead.»
|
| They worshipin' signs instead
|
| Faith from books they haven’t read
|
| They’re angry all the time
|
| Angry at some hole inside
|
| Welcome to the Spiritual Dark Age
|
| Oh, don’t lose your grip
|
| Don’t get contemplative
|
| About this space we live
|
| Between first breath
|
| And then the grave
|
| No need to be saved
|
| Just some rules on how to behave
|
| Welcome to the Spiritual Dark Age
|
| Oh, forget about love
|
| It’s not a hand from above
|
| It’s not some dream
|
| And there’s the rub
|
| Just chemicals that flood brain
|
| They’re writing poetry
|
| About serotonin and dopamine
|
| Welcome to the Spiritual Dark Age
|
| I’m not alone and you’re not alone in this
|
| There’s no map and we’re all just set adrift
|
| Just children making pictures in the sky
|
| Arguing about who’s wrong and who’s right
|
| And so the good man said:
|
| «Turns out God is dead.»
|
| We’re on our own this time
|
| To work out what is yours and mine
|
| No reward to being kind
|
| No quick fix for the fear you’ll find, oh
|
| Welcome to the Spiritual Dark Age
|
| Pass me those sedatives
|
| Pass on means sentimental
|
| Empathy and talking gentle
|
| Blink us on
|
| And take the medal
|
| The day the TV died
|
| The tie that keep the family alive
|
| Welcome to the Spiritual Dark Age
|
| I’m not alone and you’re not alone in this
|
| There’s no map and we’re all just set adrift
|
| Just children making pictures in the sky
|
| Arguing about who’s wrong and who’s right
|
| I’m not alone and you’re not alone in this
|
| There’s no map and we’re all just set adrift
|
| Just children making pictures in the sky
|
| Arguing about who’s wrong and who’s right |