Plain Pine Box

Far below the living in a plain pine box

I was put to rest for their sanctuary

The bells they ring but not for me

Forced to pay my sins in holy remedy

But my eyes still bleed

And my hands are clinched

Far below the sun

Buried on these hallowed grounds

Terror in their eyes at the sight of my remains

Unearthly wounds and scars

Ignoring my last wish to remain godless and free

They wash their hands of me

Exhume my bones and take me home

Far from the cries of the dead

Save my soul from this sacred ground

I see the smiles of the dead

I'm forced below against my will

Reveled by illusions of my last will