I use to love the smell, the scent, the sense of death
What a great experience it would be
Talk about it, thought about it and wrote about it
Dying to me would have been life
Now I curse death at its roots, limbs and leaves
The only dying that captivates me is dying to self
Ravish me oh Lord
Turn the old into new make me more like you
Any day will do, one day with you is like a thousand years
Come in like a hurricane, like a flood
Destroy this creation, wash and empty me new
You the potter I'am the clay
Break me down into nothing
(Dust born, dust reborn)
Shape and mold this empty soul into your image
(Born dead, now I die alive)
