I am nothing.

And I never thought 

It would sound so sweet.

Nothing now but to lay it down,

Nothing now but to lay it down.

How many times can a man die?

A few, it seems.  And the master wields the knife,

The master wields the knife.

How many times can this man die?

Again it seems.  Again it seems.

And the master wields the knife,

Not long now.  Oh, not long now.

But the master wields the knife.

I lay it down.  And it matters not

Because the master wields the knife.

I never thought it could sound so sweet

But with empty hands and naked feet

I approach on hallowed ground

And bear my tender flesh

For the end, it seems,

Is coming ‘round.

And I never thought

That it could be this way, but it is.