#the billboard said “the end is near” i turned around there was nothing there. yeah. i guess the ending is here

[sercphim]

[navysealt4t]

i know the end by phoebe bridgers save me

[tinogiehd]

isn't the meetup fic titled after "I Know The End"

yeah :] creation myth

[monsterslament]

I KNOW THE END PHOEBE BRIDGERS

[cupidheartsxx]

urgh listening to pheobe bridgers is an out of body experience i love her so much

[myvirtuesuncounted]

phoebe bridgers is trying to destroy me

[motionpicturessoundtrack]

“no i'm not afraid to disappear the billboard said ‘the end is near’ i turned around, there was nothing there yeah, i guess the end is here” 

dev and cam from “arches” by @EchoTheVN

pieces originally created in april 2023 / march 2021 respectively

[quinntheratt]

The billboard said the end is near

I turned around, there was nothing there

Yeah, I guess the end is here

The end is here

Characters belong to @barrenclan !

[joejhang]

neil "either way, we're not alone / i'll find a new place to be from / a haunted house with a picket fence / to float around and ghost my friends / no, i'm not afraid to disappear / the billboard said "the end is near" / i turned around, there was nothing there / yeah, i guess the end is here" josten

[fuck-you-upmusicbracket]

I Know the End (Pheobe Bridgers)

Either way, we're not alone I'll find a new place to be from/A haunted house with a picket fence/To float around and ghost my friends/No, I'm not afraid to disappear/The billboard said "The End Is Near"/I turned around, there was nothing there/Yeah, I guess, the end is here!

"I remember the first time i listened to this song and fucking ascended. the vibes are immaculate. the emotions are great. the music slaps. what's not to love"

Toy Soldier's Song (The Mechanisms)

Whoever’s uniform you wear/No loyalties to hold or share/No burning hate, no bitter fear/No heart to break, so shed no tear/Marching ever through the black/Orders fly, retreat, attack/Whoe’er commands a toy obeys/Out in the stars and far away

"The Toy Soldier in general fucks me up. It "obeys any order given to the letter" and it's only alive because it's pretending to be. This song has an amazing violin solo in the middle that just makes me. I don't have words actually it just gives me shrimp emotions. And The Toy Soldier is just obeying any commands it's given, it has "no heart to break" but it did, once, it was so lonely before, it did have its heart broken and it stole its voicebox about it, but its emotions just kind of Stopped ("his heart remembered nothing. All feeling was gone. It felt fantastic") (note the pronouns, it changed from he to it) and it makes me!!! So!!!! Sad!!!!!"

Toy Soldier submitted by @ceaseless-rambler

[madkat-stuff]

No, I'm not afraid to disappear

The billboard said "The End Is Near"

I turned around, there was nothing there

Yeah, I guess the end is here

(Lyrics from I Know The End by Phoebe Bridgers)

[l0verb0t]

jason todd × reader. | home sweet home.

SUMMARY: A familiar figure stared at you from the other side of a window, helmet covered in ash. He waved back at you. WARNINGs: implications of near panic attacks & descriptions of blood. WORD COUNT: 2000+ NOTEs: second person. this has some minor plot mentions, but this is mostly just a hurt/comfort oneshot. [no pronouns, and "babe" is used to refer to the insert/reader.]

It was a busy summer night. Off your own sweat, you lifted your head from a pillow. A ringing woke you up, irritating the headache that was swirling around in your mind and thudding against it like a hammer.

Your hand fell to your phone, grabbing it from a nightstand just for you to flash your own eyes with its bright light. With a swipe to answer its call, a certain voice spoke out from the other end. A welcomed change from the bellowing sirens outside your cracked walls.

It hadn't been too long since you last saw each other, but that didn't make it any better. Time seemed to come at a snail's pace when he was gone.

The worry never seemed to settle. You're well aware Jason is good at his job, taking pride in ridding Gotham of parasites, in his own words. You trusted him enough to get back on his own, yet it never helped.

He was late by a few more hours than he said he was going to be back, but you still had to reassure yourself that it was probably fine. Your hope was the only thing calming the scattered thoughts.

Don't worry about it. Just rest your pretty head.

For weeks at a time, he would be gone. Every now and then it happened, and sometimes he'd be late. Just to make sure whatever was on his to-do list was dealt with or, alternatively, to make sure no one followed him back. He couldn't risk it.

Yeah, I missed you too, baby.

A small apartment sitting on the edge of his home city. One of the places he never spoke a word about. One of the few places he still felt safe, even if it was only temporary.

You flicked through the channels that flashed across your television's cracked screen, careful not to trigger anything with the bright colors. Nothing caught your attention.

Listen, I can't talk for long. I don't think I brought enough quarters.

You missed his laughter.

Nausea was building up deep inside. Your head swayed from it, keeping you grounded against the couch. With your free hand resting atop your chest, the beats underneath kept an unsteady pace as your head lied against stiff cushions.

You would've slept to bide the time, calm the soreness in your eyes, and try to get a good night's rest for once, but it didn't work no matter how hard you tried. At the very least, you were able to welcome him back rather than have him shake you awake again.

A horror movie came onto the screen.

In the darkness, a masked man stood on the other side of a glass door, staring down a girl who seemed to be on the verge of a panic attack herself. Slowly, he took one of his gloved hands and knocked, leaving behind more blood with each knock.

I just need to do one last thing.

You switched the channel just as someone started laughing.

The light from the television only further irritated your eyes, yet without it, it was too quiet to be comfortable. You simply turned away.

The knocking returned. No matter how low you turned the volume, it kept its loud echo. It became clear that it just wasn't coming from it at all.

You sat up to turn your attention to the apartment's front door. When you arrived at its step and looked through the peep hole, you saw no one there.

The knocking continued, though, further away the second time.

Following the sound, you came to the windows in the living room. Apart from the blaring, bright billboards outside, only the TV gave light to who was there. Maybe you forgot to shut the curtains as you stared back at a familiar red helmet.

There, crouched down by the window, Jason gave you a quick wave before pointing down at the window's lock.

Why he insisted on only using the windows despite barely fitting through them was beyond you sometimes. They just counted as the back door to him at a certain point.

You were forced to notice it first, the smell of smoke and oil overwhelming you as soon as he stepped in.

The shine of his helmet was covered by ash. His gloves were as red as it usually was. Freshly sticking behind everything he touched, blood stuck to the wall inside.

Without a word, he raised his arms. Instead of going in for a hug, he stuck to where he was standing, looking over himself with a shake of the head.

"Sorry, honey. For the… mess." A scrambled gag rumbled through the space.

Jason's head rolled to the side, and he placed a hand on his neck as he stretched it back, groaning as his bones cracked.

"I feel like ass."

With a hum, you responded, "You smell like ass."

"You're so mean sometimes." He cooed, looking down at you as his hands wildly gestured around. "I'll remember to come back smelling like flowers next time."

Without another word, he pulled his helmet off, his hair sticking out from the sweat. His brows were stuck in a frown.

"At least you're back in one piece."

You ran your fingers down the side of his face, twirling the ends of his hair before sliding it back out of it. A quick kiss was placed on one of his scars. The expression from before continued to tug at his face, but he finally let out a breath you didn't know he was holding in.

He threw his helmet back at the couch.

Hands reached up to yours, maybe to push you away, but they stopped before then. The blood was still there, mixed with oil, on top of the leather gloves.

"Can't say the same about the other guys."

The words came out as low and raspy as they would with his modulator.

He hopped in place while tugging incessantly at one of his boots. After both were pulled off, the jacket was the next thing to go, nearly ripping the fabric before he threw it over into a hamper. The boots left prints where he stood.

"No offense, but you're making a mess."

The boots were thrown on top of the clothes without a care.

"I'll clean it tomorrow."

With the jacket gone, you finally got to see what he was wearing under it. It was a plain t-shirt, apart from Hello Kitty standing on the front of it. Why he was wearing the joke gift you gave him ages ago was something you saved to tease him with later.

He just didn't seem too in the mood for jokes.

As he looked down at you, you saw that his eyes carried bags similar to yours.

"What are you doing awake?"

Since the gunk-covered layers had been thrown aside, you placed a hand on his arm. Where he would usually stay for a moment or two to savor the touch, he immediately pulled away.

"I wanted to see you again."

"You didn't have to stay awake for me." Muffled chuckling came as he pulled off his shirt. "You should head back to bed; I'll be in when I'm finished."

"Nah."

"You're going to be tired by tomorrow."

"And you aren't?"

"I've been trained to go days without sleep," After he threw his shirt over with the rest of his clothes, he pointed at you and said, "You just have insomnia."

It came back at him in a copied, mock voice: "Well, it's worth it to see your pretty face."

A smile bloomed across his face, and a snort followed before he pushed away your face.

"Yeah, okay."

You took it as a chance to stand away from him, the odor still overwhelming.

"Mind telling me what happened?"

"With the mess I made, we'll probably be hearing about it in the news later." He gestured to himself, smiling at you. "Are you proud of me, babe? I'm gonna be on TV."

"It wouldn't be the first time."

"That's funny. Again, what happened?"

Hand in his hair, he began to tug at it, looking away from you. "It's fine. The lead led me to a warehouse around the Gotham River. It was just another rundown drug lab."

There wasn't a response for a bit after that, letting the room be filled with nothing but the sound of his heavy breathing and whoever was on the television's rambling. He crashed back into a chair to steady himself.

"Someone just pissed me off. I went a little overboard."

You gave him a chance to explain further, speaking softly.

"Is that it?"

"Yeah. That's it."

So he couldn't sulk in silence, you walked up behind him to pat him on the back. Standing there, he didn't bat an eye at you as you kept the quiet tone, saying, "You should go get cleaned. I'll be here when you get back."

The chair bent back with a creak as he leaned over to look up at you. It pressed against your front, almost on you, for support. His hand grabbed the back of your head, pressing you into a short kiss before he hopped off the chair with a groan.

"Alright."

You tried to help him into the bathroom. In typical Jason fashion, though, he made that harder, leaning his weight against your hands as you pushed him in.

He continued to mess with you, making loud kissing sounds as he tried to reach behind him. The door was shut in front of his face, and there was a groan from the other side as it did. The sound of running water followed soon after.

It didn't last long, but he didn't leave the bathroom. You sat outside the door with the assumption he actually took your advice for once, still washing up despite the silence.

To settle the nerves, you took a deep breath and got to work on taking care of everything else. Everything in the hamper was thrown into a washer. Numerous holes and rips ran across the clothing, the ends of his collar covered in so many that it could hardly count as one anymore.

You nearly threw the boots in as well. The only way they were going to get cleaned was if they were put under a hose.

You had to get off from your knees before you fell asleep.

Later into the night, you kicked at the door, your hands occupied by a pile of picked-out, clean clothes.

It took awhile before any reply came. He called out to you through the sound of splashing water.

His voice came through strained: "Yeah?"

"I got you some clothes."

"Alright. Get in here."

You opened the door to find him sitting in the bath. His arms were laid across the rims, tattoos covered in bubbles. The tub was still too small for him, and so his knees were folded inside, sticking out of the water.

Resting back against the wall, he turned his head back towards you. It was a little silly to see a guy who prided himself on looking scary looking up at you from a bubble bath.

The clothes were placed on the sink's counter.

"Are you having fun in there?"

"You know me," He hummed before splashing water in your direction. "It distracts from the pain, at least."

You crouched down beside him to lean against the tub. His hand ran over your arm, trailing soap up your skin.

"You're supposed to be getting clean, not getting me dirty."

Through a coughing fit, he laughed. His mouth opened for a second before he shut it just as quickly. Pushing deeper into the water, he crossed one leg over the other as he spoke, "I can multitask."

You matched his position, resting your own head against the wall as you looked back into his tired eyes.

"Can you tell me what happened tomorrow?"

A heavy sigh left him: "Yeah, sure. I just don't like bringing work back home."

"I know, but I still want you to talk about this stuff with me."

Jason sat up, pressing against the tub to rest his head against yours.

"I'll try to remember that."

The two of you were in there for awhile. It was the most you had talked to each other in weeks, making up for the quick calls that otherwise filled the radio silence. You tried not to fall asleep to his voice and were lucky enough not to. The floor was filthy.

[vaneshifts]

Shifters and especially Permashifters, listen to "I Know The End" by Phoebe Bridgers PLEASE

"Driving out into the sun" Think about the very first time you discovered shifting

"Let the ultraviolet cover me up" You were soaking it all in, so excited, so full of motivation and belief

"Went looking for a creation myth" Self-explanatory, I should think

"Ended up with a pair of cracked lips"

"Windows down, scream along"

"To some America First rap country song"

"A slaughterhouse, an outlet mall" Makes me think of my different DRs, from the most unfamiliar and dangerous to something as simple as a Better CR DR

"Slot machines, fear of God" Everyone's gonna tell you something different and too many people will always tell you you just CAN'T (spoiler alert: they're beyond wrong)

"Windows down, heater on"

"Big bolts of lightning hanging low" This line and the last make me think of shifting methods & symptoms

"Over the coast everyone's convinced" Oh, here comes the misinformation and lies and doubts again...

"It's a government drone or an alien spaceship" There it is

"Either way we're not alone"

"I'll find a new place to be from" ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME OMG

"A haunted house with a picket fence" You might never go back, but you've found your "Picket Fence Life" <3

"To float around and ghost my friends"

"No I'm not afraid to disappear" Permashifting, I think, or even just considering it

"The billboard said the end is near"

"I turn around, there was nothing there" There is literally nothing holding you back, I promise

"Yeah I guess THE END IS HERE" Take the leap. Step off the edge. GO SHIFT I BELIEVE IN YOU <3

[faggylittleleatherboy]

Somewhere in Japan, but I can't place it. Man, I hate this part of New York. Close my eyes, fantasize.

Three clicks and I'm home.

But you had to go. I know, I know, I know. Like a wave that crashed and melted on the shore. Not even the burnouts are out here anymore.

And you had to go, I know, I know, I know.

I'm always pushing you away from me but you come back with gravity. And when I call, you come home, a bird in your teeth.

So I gotta go. I know, I know, I know.

I'm not gonna go down with my hometown in a tornado. I'm gonna chase it, I know, I know, I know.

I gotta go now. I know, I know, I know.

I'll find a new place to be from. A haunted house with a picket fence, to float around and ghost my friends.

No, I'm not afraid to disappear. The billboard said, "The end is near".

I turned around, there was nothing there. Yeah, I guess the end is here.

The end is here.

The end is here.

The end is here.

The end is here.

[netherfeildren]

Joel

A Fear of God story : Series Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x OFC

Summary: The thought sounds on the anvil of your mind every night at four am on the dot, the song of grasshoppers and slumbering, fatherless children singing around you; I am lost, and if I read a little bit confusing, it is only because I am confused amidst the battleground of my grief, and it is difficult to find my way back now that he is not here to guide me.

A/N: this was only written for myself, but i’ve decided to share with you, as well. if you’re a fear of god reader please know that this isn’t part of my official story line, and again — only an exercise for myself, but as this is written about birdie i’ve decided to include it as a part of the birdie’s house anthology. i apologize for any confusion or emotional turmoil this might cause, but rest assured that i’m desperately hoping to have something else up for birdie and joel for his birthday and that i plan to continue to write for them after that as well.

Content Warnings: Character death; Grief/Mourning; Description of death/injury; Unreliable narrators

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 2.1K

Read on AO3

JOEL

The billboard said “The End Is Near”

I turned around, there was nothing there

Yeah, I guess the end is here

Phoebe Bridgers, I Know the End

The week before it happened, you watched a pack of wolves take down a moose. Old and stalwart and with a sort of strength only an animal that stands apart from all others in the hierarchy of nature can hold. Something unrelenting about a creature like that, that was made all the more shocking for the way the wolves had surrounded the old thing, tricked and felled the beast that for so long had stood solitary and unmoving. 

There were so many things you knew about Joel after all these years. He was a father, a husband, a brother, a friend. Once he’d been a monster. Everything about him had been red. He’d tried not to cause harm. He’d failed more than he’d succeeded. 

He had loved you. You think, more than any creature had loved another in all of man’s history. Or… at least sometimes it had felt like that. He had made you feel like that. 

He is killed in the seventh year of your life together. Only seven little years which seem like nothing in the face of everything. Nothing in the face of the destruction of the whole world, and then the rebirth of it right here in this farm house in Wyoming, but which you know, no matter what they might seem like in the aftermath, were really everything, the only time that has ever mattered. 

You remember that sometimes when you’d look around the kitchen table, the girls sitting around laughing and screeching and raucous with so much joy it seemed imaginary and untouchable, it felt like the whole world was sat existing around that oak table he’d made for you. The whole world right here at our kitchen table, Joel. 

You remember the last time you heard his voice, right before he went out into the frigid snow to look for Ellie: Don’t you love me, Birdie bird?

Oh, shut up. And then whispered right into the reddened sea shell of his ear, Here is what I see in your eyes right now: myself, reflected back at me – more love than has ever existed before in all history. And then his laugh – you’re laughing and when you laugh I want to carve the face of the world in your image. Lena zooming by your legs as you kiss for the last time, a blue ribbon in her hair. 

Half a century from now, no one will remember us, but I will never forget you. 

Remember the first time we met? Bated breath and racing heart, and the sound of the rest of your life ringing in your ears. 

Remember the stitches in your palm? The first time I took you inside of me and all the times thereafter? When you pulled our first daughter from my body – and then the two others? Her first birthday? The countless birthdays after that? Remember the endless happiness so intense it was almost painful sometimes? Remember how much I love you?

But of course, he cannot. He’s not here anymore, and nothing hurts worse than the memory of joy when you’re living through grief. The thought sounds on the anvil of your mind every night at four am on the dot, the song of grasshoppers and slumbering, fatherless children singing around you; I am lost, and if I read a little bit confusing, it is only because I am confused amidst the battleground of my grief, and it is difficult to find my way back now that he is not here to guide me. 

They’d hurt him so badly. Fractured him in a way that not even your hands could mend, your years of study and practice futile in the face of such destruction. He’d fought hard, he’d tried to get away. This is the least comforting thing you could ever imagine. 

What does it do to a person to be confronted with the inequity of their purpose? To have worked tirelessly for so many years only to fail when the moment was most dire. 

Fracture of a different but equally devastating nature. And that moment of final realization, that there was nothing to be done – his bones had carried him for so long, you rest now, we’ll be okay, whispered into his mangled ear, half a chunk missing, savaged. You did good, Joel. You did good, my love. 

The sound of Ellie’s voice telling herself over and over and over again that he was okay; he’s okay, he’s okay, he’s okay. 

And she’d said to you: I wasted so much time being angry at him, for what? For loving me too much? For keeping me alive? For making a decision that now, with the clarity of age and a child of my own, I would have made exactly the same way? I wish I could walk in his shoes through that hospital all those years ago. I’d take his exact same steps – not a single pace different. And now he’s dead. And all that anger was for nothing. And our reconciliation feels so fraught, so meaningless in the face of all that time now. No matter that we’d had years after to be together, to be a family. All I can focus on now is the time lost, the sight of his crushed skull, the night I pushed him away before you, his face full of pain and regret. And the sound of his screams at the end. 

Ellie tells you: I remember the sound of his screams better than anything else. The sound of him screaming out for me, for you Birdie – Birdie, Birdie, my Birdie. Begging for help, but actually, I’m not sure, she says. I’m not sure if that really happened or if my nightmares imagined it. 

[I still think of you on your birthday. I’m sorry for everything, she thinks, when she lays in the grass with her sisters and looks for shapes in the clouds without him now. I only see you in the spaces between them. And she asks God why He didn’t work harder to save him. And He spits in her face and asks why she didn’t do the same.]

So, there are still our children. There is still Ellie. This family you’ve gifted me. The whole world abandoned here at our kitchen table. How can death exist when that exists? How can your death exist when they’re still here?

Don’t stop to think. Don’t interrupt the scream. 

And you tell yourself, no this wasn’t supposed to happen, but the universe laughs and grips you by the throat; the gladiator scream goes on. Salt the earth, there’s nothing to return to. 

And yet… that isn’t true either. Four little faces look up at you. Three sets of his eyes. 

You were furious at the sun the day after he died. How could it just continue to rise as if nothing had happened?

And after all that, it is like this: You scream for seven days and seven nights.

You don’t get out of bed for thirty days. 

You cry every single night for a year. 

This is different. A strange and terrified sort of place. What does it mean to lose the basis of your entire existence?

And Ellie? Ellie, Ellie, Ellie, Ellie, Ellie. What is Ellie going to do without him? How is she going to be okay? The sound of her cries: Don’t let me be alone. Please, God, don’t let me be alone. I never wanted to end up alone. You need to make sure she’s okay, you need to take care of her the way that he would, the way that he’d want you to.

Ellie loses her mind for a little bit. After your thirty days in bed, she calls her turn, tells you and Dina that she’s leaving, that she’s going. That she’ll bring you back a vengeance you could never want and lay it at your feet, and you cup her chin gentle in your palm, and ask, What does it matter now, honey? Connie’s voice ringing in your memory. He’s gone now, what difference would it make?

She tells you that he would have done it for her, and you cannot refute such a claim. He would. He’d do much worse. He’d turn himself back into that monster we both know he had inside of him.

“So I need to do this.”

And you tell her: “I’m begging you not to. Me, who belonged to him, who knew him in a way no one else in the whole world did. I’m asking you not to. I’m still here. The girls are still here. We need you. We need you as a reminder of him.”

“You’ll remember him anyways,” she tells you, which is true.

“But you’ll make the memory all the better,” And so she does not go, for a time.

Ellie stays, and you have a funeral surrounded by the people of Jackson who respected a man who was good. A man who took himself for a monster for so long, even though he never said it out loud, but you knew, you saw. All that time apart, all that fear, fear, fear, the very fear of God struck into his heart, afraid of what he was, of what the world and a little girl with green eyes more than thirty years ago had made him into, but then, look at what we’d turned around and made together. 

And you whisper to the apparition of him in your dreams: Joel if you were a monster, surely it was some sort of divine monstrosity. 

So many people leave remembrances at the gate of the farm, the whole of Jackson. His brother, holding you up gripped beneath the elbows so as to not frighten your children, and Ellie is crying but trying to pretend she’s not, which somehow makes it worse than if she were to throw herself at the base of his coffin and howl. 

You give her his jacket after that, and she smells like him all the time until the day she doesn't. Until the day it’s been so long since the last time that he was alive that his scent fades and leaves forever. She wears that jacket everywhere, to work, to hunt, to bed. Leaving her wife, leaving her family, leaving her sisters, leaving you because eventually she does – leave, and she wears his jacket. An inevitability like so many other things in life, you’re unable to keep her forever, and for a time she does go. 

And you will never forget him, you will never move on, you will never stop telling your daughters about him. He lives on in them. And you wonder why it is that no one ever talks about the physically intimate aspect of grief? Of missing your person and wanting them and needing them, and your body physically craving relief from that singular person and never being able to achieve it fully ever again to completion like he could give it to you because he’s just not here. 

He was, in every way, all that anyone could ever be. 

I cried every single day for a year. The day I stopped, I put him inside of a drawer within myself and was never able to move myself to tears again. 

Seven years since then, and you go to his grave for what you tell yourself will be the last time, recognize the lie for what it is, a single slab of carved stone, and you think, he doesn’t belong here, even still after all these years, and yet this is the only place he will ever be again. 

He should have been made into a redwood, the tallest thing in the entire world. Let him be a tree. You’d climb and climb and climb, like that night with Beth, so long ago you can barely remember the sound of her voice most days. You’d climb, and he’d protect you one more time like he had so many times before. 

Joel, years ago, when we were first married, I had a strange dream: I’d had to walk down a staircase that led far beneath the earth. As I traversed it, I had to move through all of our happiest memories, the births of our daughters, the birthdays and celebrations and the long nights together, dinners, breakfasts and laughter, lazy afternoons at the lake, in bed together, still endlessly fascinated with each other despite all the times we’d found ourselves in that exact position. But when I reached the end, I’d be able to come upon our worst moment, see what it was in preparation, perhaps, for what would come to pass. 

I feel as though I have finally reached the bottom of that staircase, and part of me would like nothing more than to have never begun the journey down, but had I not, then I would have not lived through all the rest of it. And in the end, that was worth everything else.

That last night again, in my memory: Don’t you love me, Birdie bird? 

Close your eyes, he whispers, it’ll be worth it, the last taste of his mouth. 

My eyes are still closed.

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog

[phony-superstar]

drivin out into the sun

let the ultraviolet cover me up

went lookin for a creation myth

ended up with a pair of cracked lips

windows down, scream along

to some america first rap country song

a slaughterhouse, an outlet mall

slot machines, fear of god

windows down, heater on

big bolts of lightening hanging low

over the coast, everyone’s convinced

it’s a government drone or an alien spaceship

either way, we’re not alone

we’ll find a new place to be from

a haunted house with a picket fence

to float around and ghost my friends

no, i’m not afraid to disappear

the billboard said, ‘the end is near’

i turned around, there was nothing there

yeah, i guess the end is here