The sun is young, but when it dies
Its monumental girth 
Will briefly bloat to such a size 
It swallows up the Earth. 

And even if we’ve settled Mars,  
What good is that when all

Remaining of our favourite star’s
A wizened clinker ball?

The universe is likewise doomed;  
Its sum of energy 
Must one day wholly be consumed
By dint of entropy. 

No god has turned the lights out yet, 
They’re shining brightly still, 
But in the future you can bet
That astrophysics will.

Lights Out