New World

Lyrics

This is the end of globalism.
A beggar wanders in the rough land.
Those in power are well fed.
Those who do not flatter it will starve and suffer.
Days of eating crickets and cockroaches.
We have no idea how long this has been going on.
But I’ll still keep dancing.
If it’s any consolation to anyone.

I am still alive.
I am still human.
I am still waiting.
I am still dancing.
I have not given up.
I will never walk alone.
I wii find my friends.
Don’t get in my way.

WELCOME TO MY SECRET BASE.
(What did you ask of God? Salvation? Deliverance from sin? )
I WILL JUST KEEP DANCING.
(Do you want to be loved? Do you want to be loved? )
NO MORE CRY.
(“God is dead!” “God is dead!”, “What is sin? “What is sin?”)
SMILE AGAIN.
(This place is hell.There is no paradise.)

Consideration

These lyrics read like a manifesto of survival after the infrastructure of meaning collapses. The opening line—“This is the end of globalism.”—works less as a policy statement and more as a bell announcing that the connective tissue of the world (trade, norms, shared narratives) has snapped. Immediately, the song narrows the lens to a body in the dust: “A beggar wanders in the rough land.” The apocalypse here isn’t fireworks; it’s hunger turned ordinary.

Power is described through food access: “Those in power are well fed.” Control doesn’t need constant violence when it can regulate the stomach. The next line makes the mechanism explicit: “Those who do not flatter it will starve and suffer.” Flattery becomes a survival tax; obedience is purchased with calories. The image of “eating crickets and cockroaches” sharpens the humiliation: it’s not only scarcity, but the erosion of dignity at the level of daily intake. The contrast is brutal—full tables above, insects below—suggesting a new feudal order rather than a temporary crisis.

A key turning point arrives with “But I’ll still keep dancing.” Dancing functions as a form of resistance and a technique of staying alive. When speech, status, and even diet are stripped away, rhythm remains one of the last territories the system can’t fully confiscate. Yet the line “If it’s any consolation to anyone” adds a communal dimension: the act isn’t merely self-soothing; it’s a small beacon meant to reach others.

The repetition—“I am still alive / still human / still waiting / still dancing”—sounds like self-verification under pressure. The world tries to reduce the speaker to “beggar,” “excess,” “number,” so the speaker reasserts humanity as a mantra. Hope is not sentimental here. “I will never walk alone” and “I will find my friends” define salvation as solidarity—friends as the real supply line—while “Don’t get in my way” draws a hard boundary: survival requires agency, not only endurance.

“WELCOME TO MY SECRET BASE” introduces a refuge that might be literal (an underground hideout) or musical (the club, the stage, the headphones). But the refuge is not silent: parentheses inject interrogations—“What did you ask of God? Salvation? Deliverance from sin?”—as if the speaker is confronted by sermons, propaganda, online judgment, or an inner inquisitor. The reply refuses the metaphysical trap: “I WILL JUST KEEP DANCING.” The song declines to debate salvation and instead prioritizes the heartbeat.

The next question—“Do you want to be loved?”—hits the nerve of modern dependence: even in famine, people hunger for recognition. That desire can be weaponized. “NO MORE CRY” and “SMILE AGAIN” then land with ambiguity: they can be empowering self-command, but also the eerie tone of forced positivity—an authoritarian slogan that demands cheer in hell. The closing parenthesis makes it explicit: “This place is hell. There is no paradise.” If paradise is absent, dancing becomes the method of manufacturing meaning anyway.

In that sense, the “New World” isn’t a bright frontier but a wasteland after the old order. Yet the lyrics insist that as long as someone dances, the story isn’t finished. If institutions and gods fail, hope becomes an action—repeated, embodied, shared—built in a secret base of rhythm and companionship.