There's life after death, you just won't be there at all.
You wouldn't want to be anyway, while this decays... Be glad you won't.
Awareness rests upon the beating of your heart, the firing of nerves,
and the actions of a universe of tiny little branches for every single thought
required for the concept of what you think you are.
I've reached the edge of consciousness and stared across in the abyss...
With pupils wide, my lungs expand... a million years inside my hand.
This is all that we are, so why is it so hard to accept?
No one is watching over us, no one will save what we neglect.
Awareness rests upon the beating of your heart, the firing of nerves,
and the actions of a universe of tiny little branches for every single thought
required for the concept of what you think you are.
Chastised or burned at the stake, we silence the few who awake.
This is all that we are, so why is it so hard to accept?
No one is watching over us, no one will save what we neglect.
This is all that we are, so why is it so hard to accept?
No one is watching over us, no one will save what we've wrecked.
