But I am comfortable,
in the place that I'm in.
Wrapped up dark and tight,
and all cool from within.

I've been here,
since who knows when.
It's been that way,
since history first began.

They treated me like royalty,
made a pine box for all to see.
Six feet under and sealed up tight,
way down where the freeze don't bite.

Way down under, away from the din,
of daily life struggling, sinking in sin.
Way down under, safe and sound.
Safe from when the bump comes around.

I've heard the thumping,
prattle of little feet,
heard them cry out,
they sounded so sweet.

I've heard the dirge,
of funeral procession.
Wailing for lost loved ones,
for some, a daily obsession.

I've heard the call,
of the lone wolf.
The owl and the crow,
atop my grassy roof.

But I haven't heard this bumping,
this clanking and thumping,
closer and closer it comes,
that's now going on.

This never-ending night,
this horror I am hearing,
disturbing my dark dawn.

And it keeps going on and on and on...

What's this? What's this that I hear?
It's getting so loud, so close, so near...

Oh my God, crunching and tearing apart!
What will I do? Where do I start?

What's that I see? A blinding light?

I guess I'm free to flee this place,
fly off to join the never-ending race.
but I'll return here, to my death right,
once again, each and every night.

On to eternity, such is my plight.