The day of the Lord cameth less like a thief in the night, more like a firestorm of death at around eleven on a Tuesday morning. I guess it was night time in the other hemisphere where most of the people lived.

A lucky handful survived. Comparing notes later we realized that none of us had kept up with our paperwork and we were all still in bed when it happened. Only the lazy made it, a new clan of inner-city wasters were all that remained of this city.

A couple of pothead engineering students cobbled together enough solar panels and pumps to satisfy our energy and water requirements, a morphine-addicted doctor keeps us healthy. There is plenty of stuff, so much stuff, so few humans.

A bunch of strippers and hookers are with us, their Daddy issues perished with their Daddies, what was bad news for most has worked out pretty well for them. As the majority, they have ensured that women and men share this life equally.

It turns out the ashes of sinners makes perfect soil for growing fruit and vegetables, the fish have returned to the harbour, we have thousands of yachts to play with and fish from.  The air is clear now the dust has settled, the water is clean. Every day in this new Eden is simple and free and easy.

As the only surviving songwriter my ditties have become the songs of a culture. I have to write more carefully, knowing that what I produce now will endure. We are all careful about what we do and say, we have a great responsibility to create a culture of beauty and equity for all.

We, the unchosen, lazy few, we are humanity. The way we think and act now will affect our offspring and theirs. We don’t have rules and therefore don’t have sins. We have love and kindness and making new things.

Every day we wonder why we didn’t live this way before the day of the Lord?