To the misanthropic misbegotten merchants of gloom
Who look into their crystal balls and prophesy our doom
Let the death knell chime, its the end of time.
Let the cynics put their blinkers on and toast our decline.
Its a sure sign that the old world is terminally quaint.
And tomorrows gonna be a better day,
No matter what the siren voices say
Tomorrows gonna be a better day,
Were gonna make it that way.
To the pessimistic populists who harbor no doubt,
That every day we make our way to hell in a hand cart
And the snarky set, whos snapping to get,
Anyone who sticks their head above the parapet.
Oh dont be disheartened baby, dont be fooled,
Take it from someone who knows the glass is half full and
Tomorrows gonna be a better day,
No matter what the siren voices say.
Tomorrows gonna be a better day,
Were gonna make it that way.