Oh my friend won't you hold my head,
inside your arms again.
The streams inside, have run dry,
and the water drips from my chin.
We cry oh Lord, oh Lord,
How long must we wait down here,
In darkness and in fear.
I'm sick and tired of endless fights,
with the prince of this cruel, cruel world.
And my heart aches, from years of strain,
But I'm not this old yet.
All my friends stand round as I'm carried home,
In a box just big enough for my soul.
Stones are rolled,
With a gasp the surface breaks,
I'll rise with wings from deep,
To a light so bright we can barely see.