What if all the matter you could ever hope to have
Turned you into something that was never meant to last
Who would then determine whether this could be reversed
Should you seek asylum from the kingdom of the cursed
When would be the moment you would need the help to come
Pick you up and pour you out and give you time to run
How could heavy feet even determine where to go
Buried in the kind of mud where nothing ever grows
I guess the only hope you have is underneath it all
Beyond another border where your feet are standing tall