I walk across the grass
And read the stone
A question I ask
Were they alone

Did they die at peace
Or was the world tough
Was death a release
Had they just had enough

I know it seems morbid
To think in that way
People probably think it's horrid
What my mind has to say

When I think of the lives
It hurts me inside
Pretty flowers are left
For people who have died

I pass through the iron gates
To see who's around
What does my future hold
Before I go underground