‘Twas the night before Rapture and all through the land; We hoped that the Mayans were wrong on their plan.
For some people said it would be over soon.
Many of us hope they’d just run out of room.
With holiday greetings still stacked on the shelves; We hoped to see light at the end of Two Thousand and Twelve.
With cable news glowing, lights upon the Christmas tree.
We tentatively watched and thought, “Well, I guess we’ll see.”
But everything became boring, no word of mass dead. I thought, ‘Geez, forget this. I’m going to bed.”
I shuffled upstairs and I turned out the light.
Too exhausted to think this could be my last night.
So many ways to go, zombie, asteroid, or drought.
I’m going to sleep, you guys figure it out.
For you see, if tomorrow, the world begins splitting.
You can bet bet the doomsday preppers are the first people I’m hitting.