You count them like the blessings
they fall down from the sky
You wear it like a dressing
and you think you'll never die.

You can cover it up for ever
It rots, hidings not clever
Infection will be coming soon
and you die by the charge of the full moon.

Yes you were pulled into a losing battle
Because you refused to change
and when you slipped of the saddle
You still couldn't grab life by the reigns.

The ocean climbs the earth
and we have learned to respect the tides
But You will turn back to dirt
if thats the place you try to hide.