Pushing through the market square, so many mothers sighing
News had just come over, we had five years left to cry in
News guy wept and told us, earth was really dying
Cried so much his face was wet, then I knew he was not lying

The strings. The piano. The drums. And his voice… oh, his voice. Hurt. Distressed. Screaming.

I heard telephones, opera house, favorite melodies
I saw boys, toys electric irons and T.V.’s
My brain hurt like a warehouse, it had no room to spare
I had to cram so many things to store everything in there

Our world, it’s all relative. Your whole world could change in a second. Your life could literally flash… right before your eyes

And all the fat-skinny people, and all the tall-short people
And all the nobody people, and all the somebody people
I never thought I’d need so many people

All of the people. Suddenly, the world seems so big. But… so small too.
So small
Because we are all playing the same game.
To survive

Five years, that’s all we’ve got