We assume smooth sailing when our boat first embarks. Now our sailing options, dodging icebergs and sharks. Engine blown, taking water, it’s the fight of our life. There’s no rescue in sight, odds of making it slight. Least we got a date to make the Armageddon after-party tonight. When ships are going down, it’s time to drink or drown. I’m thinkin’ that drinkin’s the way to go. With nothing left to lose, a blow-out is what I choose. We can still try to go out on a high to mark our new low. Call it whistling past the graveyard, celebrating post-curse. You see, as bad as it’s gotten, it just can’t get much worse. Some say party planning sets us humans apart. So to spite all our plight, I’m suggesting we might, arm-in-arm be headin’ to the Armageddon after-party tonight.
