I pray they turn their ears to true life,
Casting the anger of death aside.
The life of sacrifice, met with such hostility.
Even to death, but raised up in victory.
How could this life bring so much pain?
Day after day after day.
It's never over, until we shut our eyes for the very last time.
It's never over until the line flattens out.
Like death, the grave, it waits.
Its anger is unrelenting, against all things,
against all time and space.
Embrace the end.
You'll think it's over when you shut your eyes for the very last time.
You'll think it's over. Death scares me not.
Pleading for men to hear this declaration from my soul.
I pray they turn their itching ears, anger is near.
Death is waiting. The grave is calling.