• I can feel them closing in
    With fingers long, cold, pale, and thin

    And if my heart was made of stone

    I wouldn’t feel so lost and alone

    I can feel them eat away
    They bite me at the dusk of day

    They’ll chew the sinews; my flesh, my bones.
    Every night another bite,
    Every night another taste,
    Every night I am a feast.
    For the hungry crouching beast.


    But there’s something to say for an early death.

    I’ll be sure to leave a good looking corpse.

    And if my heart was made of stone.
    I wouldn’t feel so lost and alone.

    And if my heart was made of stone.
    Would I still feel lost and alone?