It's not that I'm afraid at night
To meet the one who holds the scythe
Who makes me kneel before the pew
Him, the bearer of bad news

It's not that I can't face the void
It's not that I can't find the joy
He sits with me, I hang my head
He touches me, and like I said

Even if it's all illusion
And things aren't dire as they seem
Interrupted is the union
Fabric fraying at the seam

Such a task that has the morning
Such a job to bring the light
And the dawn gives knowledge of
The middle world that I've been sowin'

I wrote upon the page with scratch
With pen I tore along the line
Defiled, as I tried to hatch
And justify my earthly time
And, there, the quality of my longing
And, there, the colours of my life
And, there, the majesty of turning
Flesh into the storyline
Flesh into the storyline