Goodbye, my love, it's so bizarre,
To know that science had advanced so far.
But now the end has fin'ly come,
There's no need to be so glum,
It's just time that we succumb*.
Goodbye, my love, it's time to die,
With little monsters flying in the sky.
They have stingers on their legs,
And use your ears to lay their eggs;
Can't be blown up with powder kegs.
We have fled, had to run,
But now we're dying in the sun.
Pentapedes have come to stay,
And humans are in the way.
* I've got a rhyming dictionary.