Текст песни The Sun - Jukebox the Ghost

Everything under the sun is getting burned.
And everything under the moon is gonna sleep.
And I think that one day soon, it's all gonna...

Big bags of blood, or by inference
Big bags of water, stitched tightly at the seams
Like packaging are hurtling through busy city streets,
They're running fast but who are they running from?

Well I hate to be the bearer of bad news,
But I've been all around, I've seen the globe from upside down
And there's no bearded man on a fiery throne
With angels blowing trumpets below and calling out his judgements,

AAnd if God exists in a place like this,
Then where else could a god or goddess be if he or she is not
Trapped inside?
What if it's all just a black abyss, and lips that kiss you
When you're sick, or feeling just a little out of touch?