| It’s been a long, long time since 1882
|
| I’m not sure how many more moons I can take
|
| Won’t you put me in the grave?
|
| In the Alberta pines, I had a home
|
| I found my bones, I killed a Rose, I have hurt
|
| When will it be my turn?
|
| There’s something to be said about a quick death, no time to wonder why
|
| Wring out every breath, don’t fear the reaper
|
| Know there’s an end in sight
|
| Pity the man who can never die
|
| In my chest is cold, cold steel
|
| The scars I left they don’t quite heal like mine
|
| But they’re with me all the time
|
| Cut your teeth and move a bridge
|
| It’s not for trying that I’m living still
|
| But they have lacked the will
|
| There’s something to be said about a quick death, no time to wonder why
|
| Wring out every breath, don’t fear the reaper
|
| Know there’s an end in sight
|
| Pity the man who can never die |