His hands are ice,
Sharp like broken glass,
But he says, "Come here,
The cold won't last."

So you hand him your heart,
With a smile on your face,
His hands are ice cold,
But your heart is in flames.

He says, "Trust me,
You'll melt me to a puddle,
Fire and ice,
We'll make such a nice couple."

So you give him your all,
With a smile on your face,
And you fall and you fall,
Toward your icy embrace.

He squeezes his hands,
With your heart inside,
He didn't melt, put your flames out,
But you smile and say everything's fine.

Then you say, "That's okay,
My flame comes from within.
I'll take my frozen broken pieces,
Reconstruct and shine again."

The Boxer stands alone tonight.
There are no crowds to cheer him on.
There are no opportunities to pass him by.

The Boxer stands alone tonight.
His head is bowed, no longer strong.
His heart no longer knows what's right.

The Boxer stands alone tonight.
He can't remember for how long.
He can't remember what it felt like

to live
       carry on
                  to be strong
                                    to fight.

The Boxer stands alone tonight.
There is no one here to hear him cry,
alone in the ring, as baroque music flies
through the air; through his soul,
and at last lets him sleep.

There is not a soul left there that cares to cheer him on;
When he passes, there is no one left that deigns to weep.

There was nothing better
Nothing that made me feel alive
Nothing better than to breath,
Let go of everything
And finally open my lungs,
air that is so fresh none could compare,
breath in the feeling of freedom

If a child's birth elevate many toward joy.
Then a funeral should do the same in various ways.

Except, you notice attitudes and personalities changing.

All those with built up emotions begins to emerge hatred.
Attacking one or two, they feel wasn't sincere enough.
Didn't care enough.
Didn't love according to them enough.

Oh, many of us has witnessed things at a funeral.

Who will ride in the limousine?
Who paid for the burial?
The funeral derails many people respect.

Where you witness things you never expected?

Fights, arguments and pure disagreements.
Then when time comes to speak over the dead.
You might find a few not being totally rude.