What a perfect place to die
In this ancient stoic seat
The world itself spinning out of control
Falling down on me
A fallen hero
Grace rid shepherd of the lost
What lyre could I pluck
To wind a song of worse luck
Where else would my journey end
but here ?
This really stinks
It makes me feel sick
I'm too old and fat and meak
To carry the shield
And defend the weak
Maybe I'll find that land I once sought
And the grace I knew it would give to me
What a place to fall
This lonely cold chair
If I'm gonna die anywhere
It might as well be here.
Cheers.
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