Kevorkian Times

Sometimes the skies are darker
Than clouds that drift ahead
He saw his final star tonight
Too weak to flee or fight

Only beneath the ground can he shine
Now, you are mine
Within his heart, there's no reply
These are Kevorkian times

Renderings of what might have been
A certain smell in the attic
The branch he swung from, from a child
Same tree, he now will feed

He learnt of snow and Golgotha
Small freedom, marked by chimes
Sky was the limit from these walls
Damned Kevorkian times

I pledged that I no longer will
The aspen leaves adhere
Bow to darkness
Heed the words, you were never here

These are Kevorkian times (These are Kevorkian times)