Pulse

With a rhyme in a laugh we shrug it off

With a word in a phrase we mourn the loss

Please save us all from the preaching

Inhale the blasphemy, behold what you can't see

We're pouring our souls out and bleeding

Baptized in lies

You're gonna need all of our prayers

And the whole damn congregation to save you

Toward your demise

You're gonna need all of our prayers

And the whole damn congregation to save your soul

That all who wish to rise may rise again

To touch the stars and fly upon the wind

For those who know the most tragic of ends

Is not to die, but never to have lived

When you were young

Oh, how the Sun shone

And beneath your feet, the greenest of grass would grow

Your time has come

See the grass from below

And the procession of all who've loved letting go

Dies Irae dies illa

Solvet saeclum in favilla