words by Paul Spencer, 2005
to the tune of The F1-11

You think you are so might, you boastful human race,
Now that you're so clever you can blast things into space,
You think that with a gesture you could cause the world to end,
I hate to burst your bubble but you'd better think again.

Chorus:
You don't matter you're a tiny little spot,
No-one gives a bugger if you kill yourself or not,
Your precious planet hasn't even noticed that you're here,
You're just a fluctuation in the mighty biosphere.

E - - - / E - - - / A - - - / A - - - /
B - - - / B - - - /B - - - / E - - - /
E - - - / E - - - / A - - - / A - - - /
B - - - / B - - - /B - - - / E - - - /

You talk of planets dying in predictions grim and grand,
And caused by intervention form your omnipotent hand,
Shame to disappoint you but it simply isn't true,
The cataclysm spoken of is just the end of you.

When this planet's barren and you think the place is dead,
We'll still be surviving in the deepest ocean bed,
From high above the clouds down to the darkest buried springs,
This planet will be flourishing with microscopic things.

You're just a decoration like a candle in the night,
An accidental product of the processes of life,
You're sometimes entertaining with your bold outrageous deeds,
But totally superfluous to all your planet's needs.