| No more Titans. No more angels. |
| No more prophets or kings, |
| No Colossus bestride the world |
| No burning bush |
| No Golden Age harking us back. |
| |
| These are the extraordinary times |
| Of ordinary people. |
| People who face the day daily |
| Without x-ray vision or spider sense |
| Without shining sword or golden cup. |
| People who face the night bravely |
| With only trust and hope |
| With only the unjustified faith |
| That tomorrow will come |
| Better than today. |
| |
| These are the extraordinary times |
| Of ordinary people |
| Everyday people who everyday |
| Leave their homes and families |
| To earn their daily bread, their day of rest. |
| People who run into smoke and fire |
| Looking for that one last left behind |
| People who put between us and the darkness |
| Only their thin blue selves. |
| |
| These are the days when |
| We shall all see if |
| A rising tide means a setting sun |
| Or if the instincts of hate |
| Can be bested by the habits |
| of civilization |
| These are the days of |
| public death and private struggle |
| When all the world's futures |
| Hinge upon the past we choose |
| Or that chooses us. |
| |
| These are the extraordinary times |
| Of ordinary people. |
