The Eve of the War
No one would have believed in the last years of the nineteenth century
That human affairs were being watched from the timeless worlds of space
No one could have dreamed that we were being scrutinized
As someone with a microscope studies creatures that swarm and multiply in a drop of water
Few men even considered the possibility of life on other planets
And yet, across the gulf of space
Minds immeasurably superior to ours regarded this Earth with envious eyes
And slowly and surely
They drew their plans against us
At midnight, on the 12th of August
A huge mass of luminous gas erupted from Mars and sped towards Earth
Across two hundred million miles of void
Invisibly hurtling towards us
Came the first of the missiles that were to bring so much calamity to Earth
As I watched, there was another jet of gas
It was another missile, starting on it's way
And that's how it was for the next ten nights
A flare, spurting out from Mars
Bright green, drawing a green mist behind it
A beautiful, but somehow disturbing sight
Ogilvy, the astronomer, assured me we were in no danger
He was convinced there could be no living thing on that remote
Forbidding planet
The chances of anything coming from Mars
Are a million to one, he said (ahh)
The chances of anything coming from Mars
Are a million to one, but still, they come
Then came the night the first missile approached Earth
It was thought to be an ordinary falling star
But next day there was a huge crater in the middle of the common
And Ogilvy came to examine what lay there
A cylinder, thirty yards across, glowing hot
With faint sounds of movement coming from within
Suddenly the top began moving, rotating, unscrewing
And Ogilvy feared there was a man inside trying to escape
He rushed to the cylinder but the intense heat stopped him
Before he could burn himself on the metal
The chances of anything coming from Mars
Are a million to one, he said (ahh)
The chances of anything coming from Mars
Are a million to one, but still, they come
Yes, the chances of anything coming from Mars
Are a million to one, he said (ahh)
The chances of anything coming from Mars
Are a million to one, but still, they come
It seems totally incredible to me now that
Everyone spent that evening as though it were just like any other
From the railway station came the sound of shunting trains
Ringing and rumbling, softened almost into melody by the distance
It all seemed so safe and tranquil
