Paranoia is blooming in colors of crimson-
A neighboring world is embroiled in war.
In unequal battle, a black wave has risen
With magnetic strength to devour us all.
Now the black sun's on the verge of exploding,
I know that the old world is never returning.
All that's familiar is changing and burning,
Changing and burning.
The ringing of bells is the sound of foreboding,
The ghost of our freedom that's hopelessly mourning.
There's no-one to listen and no-one to help us,
The gods are all dead now.
The source of our light in an unending nighttime
Is the flickering star of a lit cigarette.
The planets are starting on their last procession.
Everyone will receive a happy ticket.
Now the black sun's on the verge of exploding,
I know that the old world is never returning.
All that's familiar is changing and burning,
Changing and burning.
The ringing of bells is the sound of foreboding,
The ghost of our freedom that's hopelessly mourning-
There's no-one to hear them and no-one to help us,
The gods are all dead now.