It was 1906, but we screwed the timeline up.
It wasn´t just for kicks but I´m afraid that the jig is up.
I tramped through time at the count of jump
Smashed the past and messed the whole thing up,
Now there´s nothing left but Post-Apocalypse Punk.

Tried makin´ a buck but we could barely even stay aloft.
Tried to swing a deal but we pissed the wrong guys off.
A clock-work guitar and a flintlock bass,
We´re blasting the past all over the place,
And now there´s nothing left but Post-Apocalypse Punk.

Just when we thought we had won, we were back to the start again.
With no wind in our sails and the doldrums settin´ in.
Now I´m covered in grease from my head to toes,
Slappin´ the iron, but the engines froze,
And there´s nothing left but Post-Apocalypse Punk.

It was 1906, but we screwed the timeline up.
It wasn´t just for kicks but I´m afraid that the jig is up.
I tramped through time at the count of jump
Smashed the past and messed the whole thing up,
Now there´s nothing left but Post-Apocalypse Punk.