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Written by: James Chenevert

Well here it is another night, or is it day?
It's really hard to tell since they put me here to stay.

Unusually cold I dare say, or so it seems to me.
Oh how I wish that I could be set forever free.

This thing that is lying on me never seems to move at all.
By the length of it I judge it to be mighty tall.

I hear a noise above me a little to the right.
God I wish I had a shiny ray of light.

It must be raing up there, I hear water splashing on the ground.
If only I could move this awful, heavy mound.

Ugh. Here they are agin, those creepy, crawling things.
Boy how I'd fly from this place if I had some wings.

Oh! I smell a lot of freshly picked flowers.
Someone up there is helping me to pass away the hours.

Why was I imprisoned and condemned to this life of being so alone.
Did they have to give this thing to me for a final resting home?

All it does is lie there each day and night, it doesn't even speak.
Oh well, maybe it is just a might to weak.

Still. I can't bear the weight of it on me all the time.
You know, the way they treat us coffins,
is just a shameful crime.