It was 1906, but we screwed the timeline up.
It wasn't just for kicks but I'm afraid that the gig is up.
I jumped through time, at the count of jump (Yeah, kinda like a pun)
Smashed the past and messed the whole thing up,
Now there's nothing left but Post-Apocalypse Punk.

Tried makin' a buck but we can barely stay aloft.
Tried to swing a deal but we [bad word] the wrong guys off.
Clock-Work guitar and a flintlock bass,
We blasted the past all over the place,
And there's nothing left but Post-Apocalypse Punk.

Just when I thought we had won,
we were back to the start again.
With no wind in our sails and the [bad word] settin' in.
Now I'm covered in grease from my head to toes,
Slappin' the iron, but the engine's froze,
And there's nothing left but Post-Apocalypse Punk.

It was 1906, but we screwed the timeline up.
It wasn't just for kicks but I'm afraid that the gig is up.
I jumped through time, at the count of jump
Smashed the past and messed the whole thing up,
Now there's nothing left but Post-Apocalypse Punk.