Heat Death

Verse 1

The phone declares it is three o'clock
The city fog descends upon the town
The farthest one can see is two blocks
The stars are hid: the gaze is driven down

The neighbours' human faces all eclipsed
Amidst the fog, one cannot hope to glimpse
The girl immersed in books, the man
At his piano, the child with building bricks
Assembling worlds, his starfish hands
Are curled in stout, determined fists
Isolate, disparate, forsaken, in schism
Within the abysm of the mist.

Chorus 1

Between the heat and cold there is the fog
Half-hearted wrath, agnostic Chernobog
And human warmth is spread increasing thin
A host of embers scattered to the wind
They lose their heat without a constant core
Cold grey ash in heaps about the floor
Separation, slow dispersion
Of tiny points of light, growing ever dim
Approaching the ultimate inertion
And weak against the encroaching chill of night to contend:
Entropic end.