In the deepest darkest pits of hell
They took a shovel and dug a hole
They buried everything but couldn't bury my soul
Now that I lie in this crib made of mud
In my mind a lot of thoughts flood
When I was alive I was the bird flying free
Sure, Sometimes I was the storm and sometimes the uprooted tree
They say when one life ends another begins
But why is it that death always wins?
I calmly tell death that I cannot accept it's warm comforting embrace
I have a lot to do, let me resurrect with grace
Not so soon, It says. Fight me! Fight me it shrieks
And I prepare myself for the brawl in that squeaky creek
I punch it in the face with whatever vigour I could gather
And it falls on the ground like a lifeless leaf, completely tattered
Why is this silence so deafening?
Or is it just the pleasant sound of me winning?
Hah! I'm not a loser and I never have been
Now it's my time to shine, my time to grin
I tell my soul, enough you've slept
Now my darling is the time to resurrect.