The Lightest of Times

The stars never burned so brightly,
So they say it will be the end (of the world)
Well you can't consume me with your unusual fears,
I won't dread my time left if there is much to go;

Oh it's unusual to perceive the clocks as winding,
As the words are binding,
The words we say last won't be
(3,2,1)
There's no going to be "nothing left"
But if he descends then you know it was always him,
To whom we hymn;
I'm under the impression that this pressure won't get me under you
No one can get me over you;

But these stars never looked so right
I guess our time is now.