Don't look up too quick;
You'll see the sky is falling down on you,
And when you run on empty
The ground will wait to swallow you.
I have a dream returning every night.
The goal is out of reach but still in sight.
I'm getting thin but grinning every day.
I run on empty too much; it's just my way.
And in all your dreams, doesn't it seem
That you're wearing lead boots, growing tree roots, caught in quicksand?
I can see ahead; the end of the line.
This is some kind of meltdown, just in time.
I see declining empires fade away.
The games were getting ugly anyway.