I was born on that cold December day, 
long ago and far away. 
When all the prophecies came to rest, 
and humanity was put to test. 

When the Mayan calendar and I Ching, 
both predicted the very same thing. 
Time [bad word] to an end. 

The Bible, and Nostradamus said, 
all our trouble [bad word] to a head. 
time of hunger, pestilence and fear, 
when we would lose all held dear. 

When Edgar Casey predicted the end, 
and we wouldn't know foe from friend. 

It is quite clear that it will be by fire, 
the Sun's last rant, its funeral pyre? 

Whatever it is, the time is near. 
Scholars and media spread the fear. 
I plan to celebrate my birthday that fateful night, 
to say thank you, go to bed, and turn out the light. 

To wake to a crystal-clear morn.