'The End of the World'..... a scary phrase,
In so many, varying, ways.
Do you imagine balls of fire?
Do you expect a Heavenly Choir?
Do think mankind will do the deed?
Do you think we're a helpless breed
Blown around by enormous forces
Constantly blowing us off our courses?
When I think of The End I find
Just one word comes to the fore....
And nothing more.
Not a harsh and fiery view.
Just a quiet desolation,
Just a state on non-creation.
I see a dusty planet turning......
No floods, no fires, no burning.
Just a garbage dump of 'things',
Crumbling buildings, rusty springs,
Machinery that makes no sense
When viewed in that silent future tense.
Empty streets, where windows stare
On emptiness, for there's nothing there.
Everything quiet and decaying.
Everything colourless and greying.
Our brains, which once were so aware,
Which made some sense of all that's there
Will have long-gone.All our success
Reduced to one word
When the sun first shone its rays on earth, its energy turned green;
Then that energy decayed and sank and could no more be seen.
And seams of hard black gold were formed beneath the earth's thin crust
And Miners came and dug it out saying 'In this coal we trust'
Then Newcastle arose above the workings down below
And the populace, in wonder, saw it prosper, saw it grow,
And little heed was paid to all the tireless grimy men
Who ripped the coal out of the earth and made it live again
And the coal fired smoking chimneys and the coal fired puffing trains
And the Miners toiled and laboured and got little for their pains,
While the air grew clogged and dirty and the Miners shirts were torn
And still the city prospered. A community was born.
Now the age of coal is ending and we're harnessing the sun
And the windmills turn above us and a new age has begun.
But let us still remember, as we speak of high renown,
That the Miners came before us and the Miners built our town.