Its 2030 and our society has been brought to its knees
Standing desolate in a once populated field, I cry vivaciously
The apocalypse is upon us scream the sane of our new minority group, the human race
We pray, one hand on heart and the other covering our faces, that “This is not the end”

I remembered when I was a child strolling down our icy avenue
Always feeling a sense of regret and utter happiness
Piles of snow resembling a crushed snowman, cleansed my heart with whiteness
Pondering an eventual exotic journey, contemplating life, “This is not the end”

I even remembered waiting, as beads of sweat rubbed the fragility of my skin
My legs shaking, staring into the abyss of black and white scribbles of judgment
Racing to finish my sentence before the clock hit ding
I remembered how a simple test gave me PSD symptoms, “This is not the end”

The smell of burning toast wavers, filling my nostrils and burning my lungs
Our culture, our kind, have been reduced to the natural selection of evolution
Clinging to the lifeless bodies that were once familiar, hoping resurrection is possible
The abomination of our innovation, the domination of our population, “This is not the end”

We pay the debt of our “Frankenstein,” our attempt to defy the laws of physics
Our life strangled lifelessly by our own innovation, call it a pandemonium IPhone if you will
Reduced to the animalistic tendencies that we wore as trophies, we despair
Cradling our survival like a malnourished baby whose life is up, “This is not the end”

Its 2025! The President with his cliché smile and tiepin stands tall
Declaring to the world with an air of confidence: “NASA has perfected its space probe!
A jubilant day for all Americans,” he hypothesizes relishing applause and recognition
Our era bears great fruit he believes, but its poisonous, “This is not the end”

NASA’s ingenuity, a chance to explore the abyss of the space-time continuum, offers
Answers to our fantasies and confusion
Discoveries that could topple our society, or bring it together, he ignorantly explodes
Standing erect in a posture of unrelenting honor and pride, “This is not the end”

2028 struck the clock of doom
I was sitting on my bed sucking the air of freedom, but at the time it was simply O2
Drinking a cola, relishing life, staring into the oblivion with utmost positivity
When the black spots broke atmosphere, “This is not the end”

“This piece of art is a Hephaestus specialty,” argued the President
“Hand made from the sweat and tears of pure American brilliance”
“ It bears the capability to send sonic booms deep into the unknown”
“There is no stone that will be left unturned!” “This is not the end”

First specks of dust, evoluted in minutes into nightmares
UFO! UFO! The cries of panic and civil unrest plagued the streets
Petrified by fiction, or at least what we thought was fiction, our conscience was ripped open
Our shock poured out of our bodies, as imagination became reality, “This is not the end”

“Agghhhh!! Goddamit! I absolutely abhor alien movies, they suck!
It was 2023 and I was watching the newest Predator movie
Sadly, no Schwarzenegger, but a lean and intelligently suave James Franco
Who would think Franco could be in a Predator movie? Lol! “This is not the end”

“No seriously be quiet, this is not the end of the movie, there is still another 20 minutes”
“Ohh, I am sorry, I will be quiet,” covering my eyes as green plasma spewed everywhere
“I wonder if any of this fiction is based upon a shred of truth? Hmm, food for thought”
A snippet into government conspiracies maybe? Who cares really, “This is not the end”

They dropped like atom bombs with their plasma rifles, spreading like radiation poisoning
One by one we lost doctors, lawyers, students, and even newborns
What was remarkable though was that they did have dreadlocks
Stopping John McTiernan in his tracks, “This is not the end”

Rounding us up like we did to our own during the Holocaust,
They executed us in satirical enjoyment, a “game of thrones” you could call it
They spoke our language with fluency, understanding the intricacies of our mind
Better than our own psychologists could muster, “This is not the end”

When our president made face with them they chuckled all alien like
They told us that they only found us because we were looking for them
My father once told me that “we would either find them or they would find us”
Sadly both occurred in tandem, ironically, “This is not the end”

Our society loves to argue topics such as feminism, animal rights and gay rights
Add our decision to aimlessly dig into the unknown searching for gold, to that list
However, the gold we found was actually a bumblebee in disguise
A bumblebee that made the journey back to bite us in the a**' “This is not the end”

The year is 2040, our President is dead and our military is the size of Djibouti’s
Earth is now the home of our extraterrestrial brothers and our resistance is futile
Still we fight back, hoping to win the jackpot, but the probability is close to 0
We lack the firepower, but we have nothing to lose, “This is not the end”

We comprehend that death is sooner than we expect and that our strive to rid our brothers
Is symbolic to a tunnel with a light at the end. We can run, but that's all we can do
I am currently the leader of the biggest rebel group; yes we are rebels in our own turf
I have done unspeakable acts, branding me a hero in a dying race, “This is not the end”

I have killed a brother, cutting his body open to study his anatomy
I have tortured a brother, questioning all information that I can get
I have walked among a brother, disguised as a brother studying them like a trinity student
I know them, they do not know me, I am the chosen one, “This is not the end”

They shout my name, “chosen one,” “chosen one, “ their prophet, their Jesus
Covered in sweat, blood, tears and green goo, I wear my enemy on my back
I stand tall and scream like an Arapaho with a prophet’s wisdom
To all who remain, “This is not the end!”