In my short life, the end of the world has taken on many meanings.
First there was the way the world ended the first time a girl I had a crush on dumped me. Sing it Skeeter—
Then, but seriously now, there was the Bomb. As Barry told us—
Within just a few years of the 60s, we all got very chill about the end of the world. Irony was king, and so was (were?) REM—
And now that I am a Catholic, I know that the world will end when God is good and ready. And I listen to boring, irony-free songs like “When the King Shall Come Again.”
Sorry, I know. It's the best version I could find. And I love, just love, the hymn.