AN ICY COLD CHILL THAT HOLDS LIKE A VICE
YOU SIT AND YOU WAIT IN YOUR PRISON OF ICE
THE GRIM REAPER'S SO CLOSE THAT YOU SMELL HIS BREATH.
YOU'RE MISERABLE WAITING TO DIE LIKE A FOOL
AND YOUR FEELINGS ARE NUMB FROM LOSING ALL CARE
IT GETS HARD TO BREATH...YOU FEEL LACK OF AIR
AND YOU SENSE THE QUICK SWIPE OF DEATH'S SHARPENED TOOL.
BUT NOW THAT IT'S OVER, YOU FEEL NO MORE PAIN
YOU DON'T HAVE TO WORRY 'BOUT TORTUROUS RAIN
THE ICE IS ALL GONE; YOU ARE NO LONGER CAUGHT
YOU'VE WAITED AND STALLED, BUT NO TIME HAVE YOU BOUGHT
SO SMILE, YOU'RE DEAD, YOUR LIFE IS NOW DONE
AND IT WAS JUST YOU, NOT DEATH, THAT HAS WON.
