Our salvation in the hands of doom

Arctic front just a little seems to much A tolerance to something with no passion or no desire To be that frozen bird on the wire Burning purpose Burning reason reason to plant the greatest ideas A non-touch society bleeding out slowly As they shape our mold To be a force or be a commune Starving the less prepared Now their army they call us the metronome Building their power forgetting humanity's moral disaster Ambiguous though they left us no escape held hostage Corporations traps us always fighting for food. Panic it's out of their control We the people Hold all the cards Watching the economy teeple Expecting only handfuls to be still driving cars I have been stuck in a black hole searching for ammo for my soul Searching for camo Before gravity takes it's toll Now it's 2066 They think home will be hit by some close encounter Some near Earth object is eyeing annihilation Apophis at 3.4km on 2029 sounds pretty close Apophis Just go away we don't want you back