Shallow within the earth, buried deep beneath the snow
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You would remain forever young while the rest of us grow old
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We would act upon our guilt, a northern burial was your wish
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We would obey and fulfill, for your importance is strengthened by your early death
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It's the truth in true despair, deepest roots, darkest blues
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The belief that all is lost, and that nothing can be done
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Forever frozen, never to decompose, your body would be preserved
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While we all live, and struggle on, and inherit, the life that you deserved
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Your youthful looks remembered, your dignity retained
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While there would be no relief for us, and we'd look worse everyday
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It's the truth in true despair, deepest roots, darkest blues
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The belief that all is lost, and that nothing can be done
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In our minds and in our hearts, in frames, you image will hang
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On the walls of grieving homes and other places you would never go again
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Imagine the things they would say about you, as if they really knew
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How your death was premature, but your life was overdue.
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You have already spent your better years taking your time for granted
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It will be yours in the end, but at what price
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To have wasted, your entire life
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Wishing it all away...Death is a Tease!
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To venture into the thought of despair and pull yourself back together again,
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Knowing you had once stood on the edge and almost dove in.
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Everything had driven me there, another lesson, best learned young:
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When you want it, you can't have it, when you don't want it, it's done.
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For all our guilt, for all our lies, for all we care, we'd gather together to say goodbye
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As if the dead can't see the living, they would volunteer to twist the truth
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For the comfort of each other and say "He was a good friend of mine."
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Make the choice, to stay alive! Existence is your only hope to fight!
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Not for the love of life or the fear of death, but to save the lies from the breath...
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...of the ones around you, who would speak and cry,
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And the ones around you who would fake and lie,
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Who would say that they knew you and that you would be missed,
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As a storm of admiration buries you again.
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Darkest Blues: Relief That Nothing Can Be Done
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| Woods Of Ypres |
