Heat Death

Someone worked it out once,
That if the Universe keeps going,
And entropy works like we think,
Then the way it all ends is rather mild,

And space becomes gentle,
Like tepid water in a kitchen sink.

All because the universe won't stop growing.
And who is to blame for that?

It was the same here,
And now everything has grown so much,

I can feel the cool grease on my hands.
And I want the drain plug to pull out.