Remember in September when you said that we should go camp out in the garden just 'cause we could. And now standing at the edge of this incredible machine - it's engraved with swear words, but what the fuck do they mean? 'Cause the feeling that this will get swept from our feet is as real as the astroturf grass that's scraping your knees. So let's talk about stuff that we wish we'd forget while the earth spins us round at an incomprehensible speed. 'Cause when everything keeps moving in circles, it's impossible to see straight.

But this world isn't spinning, in fact it's spiraling out of control. And our fingernails will grow down to our feet, and we'll just sigh at how quickly we all got old. And our days will be spent just stacking up coins, just cutting and pasting, just doing what you are told. And the night time will come, like falling from a dream, like a key with no lock, like a shark that will swallow us whole, or like walking home after the streetlights have gone out.

I am the only one here. I am the only one here.
The world has stopped for me. The world has stopped for me.
The houses watch and let me pass and the streetlights listen to the sound of my footsteps on the tarmac. I stride into the darkness and it encases me, and in it I am safe, and I am almost home. I am almost home, but I'm not ready for this moment to end...

So somebody tell Fringe Master Chris that we need him. The master plan is failing, Jim's aperture is closing, and we don't have much time. One day all of the air in the world will have been breathed in.